


His Touch

by Ashbright



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU post-3A, Alpha/Beta, Anal Sex, Background Relationships, Backstory, Banshee Lydia Martin, Canon Gay Character, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Hugs, Kissing, Love Bites, M/M, Marking, Mating Bond, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Pack Dynamics, Rimming, Switching, Touching, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:02:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 65,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashbright/pseuds/Ashbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story is COMPLETE.</p><p>You could pay a psychiatrist to listen to you talk, to help you understand yourself and the situations and people around you, to ask the questions that will make you think more clearly, being quietly supportive while challenging your beliefs.<br/>Or you could take a road trip with your sister Cora and get all of it for free.<br/>Three months on the road, and Derek returns to Beacon Hills at peace with his past and with himself and with a new perspective on life, especially when it comes to the importance of certain people in it and what to do about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back again

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by one of the howlforhoechlin's prompts in the Teen Wolf Holiday Exchange on Tumblr.  
> However, it took off in its own direction, and became way too involved to be finished on time.  
> The fic is complete and will be posted once it goes through a final edit after it returns from beta.  
> A warm thank you to Conzieu for her beta work.  
> Her ~~constant harassment about logic and continuity~~ constructive criticism and ~~obsessive nit-picking about every damn word~~ amazingly precise vocabulary have made this story much better than it would have been without them.  
>  Plus, I may be the one who has the gay sex, but she is the one who knows how to write about it...

The first thing Derek does when he comes back to Beacon Hills is to go to check in with the resident Alpha, because that’s what you do, when you are an Omega entering a pack’s territory.  
He is a bit amused by the irony of it, but mostly relieved that he no longer holds the title. He had tried. He’d done his best. And he had made mistake after mistake, never feeling on solid ground. Circumstances had not helped, but still.  
He is leaning against the hood of the Camaro in front of the McCall residence, his arms crossed, when Scott comes home from school on his motorcycle. Scott takes his helmet off and stares at him for a moment, then he nods and walks closer.

“Are you back for good?”

As if that was Derek’s decision to make. He feels for Scott. He may be a natural Alpha, but, outside of what Stiles can dig up from his research, he knows nothing of werewolf culture and traditions. It has to be bewildering. Derek grew up immerse in it, and still, he had not known half of what he needed to be an Alpha. He gently tries to remind Scott of the situation.

“Not sure. Depends on you, doesn’t it?”

Scott frowns and asks, “Where is Cora?”

“She could be flying in in a couple of days and back in school next week, if you let us stay.” 

Once again, a reminder of who is in charge, here.

“The loft?”

“Sold it.”

“So, where would you live?”

 _If I let you stay_ is unstated, but clear. Derek does no flinch, though the fact that he could be denied permission had never really occurred to him. He pushes down the feeling of annoyance at the fact that he had to remind Scott that he had the authority to grant or deny Derek permission to stay, only to have him hold it over his head. Scott is within his rights, of course.

Derek asks, “Do you know where Peter is?” Because that is Derek’s only option outside of a hotel.

“Haven’t seen him.”

Peter has not checked in in over three months? And Scott, as his Alpha, has not bothered to look for him? Or…  
Derek confirms his suspicion. 

“He’s not part of your pack?”

“Uh… No?”

God. Scott really doesn’t know what he is doing. He apparently neither offered nor denied Peter a place in his pack, and has left an Omega live in his territory with the situation unresolved? It’s kind of unthinkable, really. Derek could not live in that grey zone, not knowing where he stood, but he figures Peter is exactly the kind of wolf who could. Who would thrive on it.

“What about us, Scott?” Derek needs to make it clear that he needs a decision from Scott. “You can send us away, tolerate us, or take us in. Which is it going to be?”

“Hmm… I have to think about it.”

Even though Derek is sure Scott has no idea how insulting this answer is, it still feels like a slap in the face. Perhaps Scott will realize it when he asks for advice from Stiles or Deaton, or both, probably. Whether he cares or not, Derek has no idea. Probably not: It is not as if Scott has ever shown him any kind of respect before, or has ever worried about Derek’s feelings. He shuts out the memory of Scott using him to give Gerard the bite, something Scott has never even thought of apologizing for, and answers calmly.

“OK. Can I go say hi to the rest of the pack?”

“I’m not sure how glad they’ll be to see you, but feel free.”

Derek assumes that Scott is referring to Isaac and the twins, whom Derek is not in any hurry to see. He’s talking about the human pack members. He is grateful to be allowed to contact any of them while his situation is unclear however, though once again, Scott might not be aware of how unusual that is. Well, Derek is not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“My cell phone number’s the same. Let me know when you decide,” he says, as if he doesn’t mind waiting.

Scott nods, looking thoughtful.

Derek gets back in his car and drives off. In his rearview mirror, he sees Scott, just standing there, watching him leave. He is reminded of Scott’s rejection of Derek’s invitation to become part of his pack, and cannot help feeling hurt all over again. Things would have been better with Scott’s support. Derek might have done better. He tries not to be insulted by Scott delaying his answer, and doesn’t even allows himself to feel hurt that Scott would not only not invite him to join his pack as a matter of course, but would even be hesitant to allow him and his sister shelter within the territory. Suddenly he wishes he hadn’t come, wishes Cora did not insist on them trying to reconnect with Peter.

Well, he’s checked in with the Alpha, now he’ll check in with the Hunters, in case Scott forgets to tell them there is an Omega in town, which, let’s face it, he probably will.

~~~~~~~

Chris Argent opens the door within seconds of Derek ringing the bell, and he… smiles?

“Derek Hale! Welcome back.”

Well, that’s interesting. The hunter moves aside, still smiling, and says, “Come in.“ OooooK… He calls out, “Allison! Isaac! Derek’s here,” and guides Derek to the living room, where Isaac and Allison get up from the couch after she pauses whatever they were watching on TV.

“Hey Derek. Welcome back!” says Allison, smiling her pretty dimpled smile at him _as well_.

Isaac just stares at him, his eyes narrowed, his mouth in a thin line. Allison looks at Isaac with a puzzled expression, then turns back to Derek and says, warmly “Sit! Sit. Can I get you something?”

Derek, who had not exactly planned on a sit down chat, sits, just to piss Isaac off, but says, “No, thanks. I just came by to say hi and, you know, let you guys know I was here. I don’t want any trouble.”

They’ve all sat down again. Chris nods in understanding.

“Beacon Hills is your home, Derek. Regardless of whom the Alpha is,” he says. He doesn’t notice the glare Isaac sends in his direction, but adds, smiling at Allison. “And we’re definitively out of the Werewolf hunting business.” Allison smiles back at him. It looks like they actually mean it, however unbelievable that may be.

Chris turns back to him and asks, “Have you been to see Scott yet?”

Derek might have questioned the Argents’ apparent welcome, but this actually settles that it is genuine. Chris understand pack dynamics, and is actually trying to be helpful, discreetly reminding Derek of the precariousness of his position as an Omega in an new Alpha’s territory, showing true goodwill.

Derek nods in thanks and says, “I have.”

“Great. Good. So, are you back for good?”

It is amusing that Hunters would have a better grasp of werewolf traditions than the resident Alpha. Derek is here, visiting the Hunter. In Chris’ mind, it obviously means that Derek has been included in the pack, or at least invited to stay in the territory. Had he been denied, he would be gone already.

“I hope so, but… I don’t know yet.”

He tries not to show how slighted he feels, but he is not sure how effective he is. Chris looks puzzled and a bit troubled, but Allison actually looked pissed. Somehow, it makes Derek feel better that someone is aware of how fucking rude being left in limbo like this is. Derek tries to recall his last interactions with the Argents. Their positive attitude towards him clashes with the constant suspicion and mere tolerance he remembers. Did something happen, in the last few days of his tenure as Beacon Hills’s Alpha, that made them change their perception of him? Perhaps Scott finally explained to them the circumstances under which he bit Allison’s mother… And wouldn’t that be about time.

He glances towards Isaac, and the smirk on _his_ face shows that at least _his_ opinion of Derek has not changed. Isaac doesn’t know shit about pack dynamics, and is just glad Scott now has power over Derek.

Chris says, “I saw that the loft sold pretty fast. Where are you going to stay until…”

“A hotel. I’m sure it won’t be long.”

“Excuse me,” says Allison, getting up. “I have to make a quick call.”

Isaac grabs her wrist. “Allison? Are you calling…”

Derek can’t see the look she gives him, but Isaac lets go of her with a sheepish expression on his face. She leaves the room, her posture and walk as graceful as Derek remembers.

“Stay for dinner,” says Chris. “It’s almost ready. Actually, I’d better get the chicken out of the oven.” He gets up and walks out, presumably heading for the kitchen.

Derek has no intention of breaking bread with Hunters, no matter how retired they are or how friendly they seem, but he is glad for the time alone with Isaac.

“So, Isaac, are you still living with Scott?” Derek asks, giving Isaac an easy opening.

“Yes, I am. Scott’s a great Alpha. He actually cares about his pack.“

Exactly the kind of answer Derek was hoping for. God, Isaac is so predictable.

He nods seriously. “I thought a lot about our last conversation while I was away,” he says. “You were right. I had no right to turn any of you. It was selfish. I just wanted a pack again, but that’s no excuse. I know I was a terrible Alpha. I wish I could change what I did. It’s too late for Boyd and Erica. Luckily, it’s not too late for you though.”

“Uh?”

“Some believe that if a turned wolf kills his sire, he regains his humanity…”

“Yeah.” Isaac spits. “And you stole that chance from Scott.”

“Riiight. From Scott, who, it turns out, happened to be a natural Alpha. But that’s irrelevant. I’m offering that chance to you. I had no right to make you a werewolf. I want to give you back your life, your humanity. I have a lot to atone for, and this would only be justice. I won’t fight you. I’m your sire. You can end me, and you’ll be cured.”

And truly, if being a werewolf was as much of a burden to Isaac as it had been to Scott at the beginning, he would do it. Not giving Scott that chance was something he truly regretted, though Cora is 100% positive the “Kill your sire” cure is the werewolf equivalent of an urban legend.

“Uh… What?”

“You can meet me at the old Hale house tonight. I already dug a grave. (Well, that’s a lie, but he could have…) I’ll even lie in it. Quick claws to the throat, and you’re free.”

“What? No! No way!”

Pretending Isaac response is a refusal to end Derek’s life, though he knows very well it is not, Derek insists. “It’s only fair, Isaac. I owe it to you…”

“No! I mean, I… I’m good. I’m fine being a werewolf,” Isaac says, which Derek sarcastically translates as 'I don’t give a shit whether you live or die, though the second would be my preference, given the choice, especially if you keep talking about turning me back.'  
“But you’re so resentful that I turned you. Last time we talked…”

“You were a lousy Alpha!” Hm… No more ‘Woe is me, why did you do this to us’, then?

“Yes. I was. However, by the time we had that conversation, when you raged at me for not rushing to yours and Scott’s help, I truly believe you had already switched your allegiance to Scott, thought of yourself as belonging to Scott’s pack, though he was not yet an Alpha. And Scott had never joined my pack in the first place, so... On the other hand, Cora, my sister, was my Beta, and she needed me. Obviously, as her Alpha, I had to let her needs outweigh those of werewolves outside my pack. She took precedence. Surely, you can see that?”

Isaac looks at him with narrowed eyes, but nods, somewhat reluctantly. Derek goes back to his main theme.

“But that day you asked, speaking of Boyd, Erica, and yourself “Why did you do this to us?” Remember? You obviously wished then that I would undo what I had done. I am prepared to do it. Let me make it right!”

“I…”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“You kicked me out!”

And Derek hears the underlying hurt. How can Isaac not have figured this out for himself? He is so emotionally immature. “I did. The Alpha pack wanted me, or so I thought. Which meant they would have tried to get me to kill all the members of my pack. You trusted Scott. I knew you’d go to him, that he would take you in, that you were more comfortable with him than with me anyway. It was the only way I could get you out of danger.”

“But… But… You…” Isaac huffs in frustration.

Derek ignores him and asked again as if he’s confused, “Don’t you want to be human again then?”

“No!”

Derek lets the truth of it settle with a moment of silence.

Finally, he says softly, “You know, Erica _loved_ being a werewolf. Boyd… Boyd, even as he was dying, told me it had been worth it. They did not trust me, and they left, and they died, but they _never_ blamed me for the bite, for wanting a pack. _You_ did.  
“It may have been a stressful time for everyone, but _you_ were too self-righteous to see I was protecting you, too sanctimonious to accept that my place was at Cora’s side and too petty to admit that becoming a werewolf was the best thing to ever happen to you. Well, let me make something crystal clear, _now_. I’m really glad you are happy in Scott’s pack. I’m really glad you survived the Alphas, the Darach and everything else.”  
He smiles a smile that isn’t one, one that, though it shows only human teeth, is a reminder that even if Derek is not an Alpha anymore, Isaac is no match for him, not even close. “But you are going to do yourself a favor and tone down the attitude.”

Isaac is very red in the face with anger or embarrassment or both and is about to say something without thinking, though at this point he should know better, when with awesome timing both Argents return.

“Sorry again for the interruption. I’m all done,” says Allison with a smile.

“Oh, good, because dinner’s ready” replies Chris.

Derek stands up to make his apologies. “Thank you for the invitation, Chris, but I’m afraid I’ve already made plans. It is very much appreciated though.”

“I understand,” answers Chris, and Derek bets he does. But graceful host to the end, Chris walks Derek to the door, and Allison accompanies them.

“It was good to see you, Derek. I’m sure things will get resolved promptly, and that we’ll be seeing you around.”

And while it seems genuine, Chris benevolence is still weird. Allison smiles warmly.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again soon,” she says.

She always had the cutest smile, and a backbone of steel. Regardless of past circumstances, Derek thinks well of her. He is about to walk out, but finally, he can’t help himself, and speaks up.

“Allison, did you know that unlike amongst real wolves, amongst werewolves only the Alphas actually mate for life? Once he finds his mate, an Alpha werewolf never looks elsewhere, no matter what.”

“Uh… OK?”

She’s not stupid. She’ll figure it out. Derek notices a little appreciative smile on Chris’s face as he turns to him and say, “Have a nice evening, and thank you again for the dinner invitation.”

Isaac will grow the fuck up eventually, but even then, Scott… Well, no matter what Scott’s feelings are towards Derek, there is a reason why he is a natural Alpha. He is an extraordinary man. And Allison, despite her ancestry, is remarkable in many ways. They deserve each other.

He grabs a sandwich at Subs and checks into the nicest hotel downtown. It has a pool and a work out room, as well as a king size bed. Cora has a shit influence on him, he thinks lovingly. He goes out again and heads to Stiles. The driveway is empty and the house is dark. He drives to the preserve and change into running shorts and a wife-beater, deciding to go for a run before going back to the hotel. An hour and a half later, there still is no sign of life at the Stilinskis. He stinks of sweat, anyway. He heads back to the hotel, showers and hits the sack.

~~~~~~~

Derek runs into Lydia, Danny and the twins the next morning at Starbucks, of all places. The twins held Boyd as Deucalion impaled him on Derek’s claws. That did not endear them to Derek. But then, Decalion’s roar brought Scott to his knees, he was that powerful an Alpha, one whose will not many could resist, so Derek knows they didn’t have much choice. One of them smiled about it, but he could be the same one who later came and warned them that Kali was coming, so... He’ll give them both the benefit of the doubt.

Lydia’s greeting smile is beautiful and genuine, and Derek actually smiles back a little.  
“Well, hello there,“ she says. “You’re back.” There is real warmth in her voice.

“Miguel!” says Danny, cracking up.

Derek rolls his eyes. They’re both grinning, and the other three are looking at them with some confusion, but Danny just shrugs it off.

“Hale” says one of the twins, not quite looking at him.

“Hey” says the other. “Back in town?”

Derek let’s his eyebrows answer, but adds, “Saw Scott yesterday,” just to make things clear. The twins both nod at the exact same time, the freaks.

“How is Cora?” asks Lydia. Derek is pretty sure that together, Lydia and Cora could take over the world if they decided to.

“She’s great. She’ll be here the day after tomorrow.” She texted she wanted to come, regardless of Scott eventual decision. Called Scott a fuckwit, too, even when Derek explained that he didn’t think Scott meant anything by making them wait.

“If she needs help catching up in school, tell her to call me,” says Lydia, and it’s obvious she means it.

Derek is not going to explain he doesn’t know if they’ll be allowed to stay. He just thanks her, sincerely. If Cora has half a brain, and she does, she’ll take that offer and run with it.

With a nod, he leaves them to their expensive drinks and gets himself a cup of filtered coffee, black, with his usual four sugars packets. He likes it sweet, and it’s not as if he has to worry about cavities or diabetes.

~~~~~~~

He spends the day looking for Peter. He knows his uncle has a place in town, because though he spent most of his days at the loft, he never slept there.

At city Hall, he looks at property records and voters registration, because Peter would never rent, and he believes fervently in political activism. He searches under Peter Hale, but also under Peter Niers, because, well… Peter. Nada. Then he goes back and looks for Peter Sheffield, which was Aunt Nina’s last name. There are four. He jots down their addresses and calls information. There are only two Peter Sheffields with landlines, and one of them has an unlisted number. The other has no address associated with the number, just a postal box, and an automated answering service. It’s fucking frustrating.

Derek knows someone who could help him in his research, of course, someone who is really good at it. But he was kind of hoping the first time he went to see Stiles, Stiles would know it was because Derek wanted to see him, not because he needed his talents. He has delayed going to kind of savor the anticipation, to be honest. Well, the search for Peter can wait, but perhaps not the visit to the Stilinskis. He should really check in with the Sheriff, too, actually.

TBC


	2. On the road, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "On the road" chapters take place during Derek and Cora's road trip. This first one occurs immediately after the end of 3-A.

On the road, part 1

_Derek focused on driving, and kept his mind as blank as possible. Cora had turned on the radio and the sound was a welcome distraction. She was quiet but there, like his mom had known how to be. Her presence was soothing, loving and supportive, helping to keep him away from the maelstrom of negativity that was waiting just around the bend to swallow him._

_A hundred or so miles out of Beacon Hills on I-5 south, and the radio station started to fade. Cora reached for the tuner and tried to find something she liked. For a few moments, “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls came on, and for some unknown reason, Derek thought of Stiles. It suddenly bothered him that he’d never even said goodbye to him before heading out. He was not aware of his jaw clenching or of his fingers tightening on the wheel until Cora’s cool hand covered his own._

_“He saved my life, you know?”_

_Derek accepted the fact that she seemed to know whom he was thinking about and with a pang thought of the many occasions when Stiles had saved _his_ life. He shut out that train of thought and asked her._

_“When did he save you life?”_

_“When he was waiting with me in the ambulance. I stopped breathing, and he did CPR.”_

_“He told you that?”_

_“No. It was just like in the movies. I was in a fog, in pain, and all of a sudden, it stopped. Everything was clear, and the pain was gone, and I was floating away. I heard my name and I looked down and there was Stiles, telling me to breathe. And he blew into my lungs. I could feel how important it was to him that I not leave. So I came back. It hurt again, everywhere, and the fog was returning, but I heard him make some crack that the next time he put his lips to my mouth I’d better be awake.”_

_She smiled at the memory, and Derek could just hear him say it, in that self-deprecating tone he always used about himself. It sounded so much like Stiles, rising to the occasion, never having a panic attack when anybody could be expected to have one, but saving the day, yet still thinking so little of himself._

_“He’s my favorite, you know… Of all of them,” added Cora._

_“Mine too,” Derek admitted softly._

_“He was Boyd’s and Erica’s, as well, and he is Peter’s, too.”_

_“Not Isaac’s though,” said Derek, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice._

_“First of all, Isaac has the emotional intelligence of a toddler. And second, he’s always been in Scott’s pack,” answered Cora with finality as if that facts makes Isaac's opinion totally irrelevant._

_Derek did not want to think about Isaac, or about pack, for that matter. He changed the subject._

_“So, Cora. Where are we going?”_

_“Do you care?” she asked, looking at him._

_He shrugged. Away from it all was not an answer, really._

_“Let’s drive along the coast, OK? I’ll call ahead, to some nice hotels with spas as we go. I want lots of massages and facials, I want Olympic pools and saunas, and luxury breakfasts, and some fluffy robes…”_

_He looked at her with his eyebrows raised._

_“The last few months sucked, Derek. I feel wrecked. Pampering is not just for the Lydias of the world, you know. We could both use a little indulgence. It’s not as if we can’t afford it.”_

_Their inheritance and the insurance monies had been put in trust, but Laura had always taken care of it all. He’d gotten a first bulk installment at eighteen and very generous monthly payments since he turned twenty-one, way more than he could spend. He’d bought the loft in cash, but otherwise only spent the minimum. Cora was right. He could certainly afford to treat them to whatever she wanted. He got his wallet out and handed it to her._

_“Use my American Express. Find somewhere nice for tonight. Right on the coast. I want to see the ocean from the room,” he said._

_She put his wallet in the small tray between the seat. “I was emancipated when I turned seventeen and I received the first chunk of money from our trust fund, just like you, and this is my idea. The first hotel’s my treat.” She took out her phone and went on the web. After a few minutes, she asked. “Is three hours away OK?”_

_“That’s fine.”_

_She dialed, and made a three-night reservation for an 'Ocean house', at a place called The Post Ranch Inn, in Big Sur, for Derek and Cora Hale. She ordered room service for dinner on their private terrace, and she arranged for daily massages, body treatments and facials as well, for the both of them. She hung up with a sigh of satisfaction._

_“I’m not crazy about people I don’t know putting their hands on me,” he mumbled, because though he wanted to please her, he had… issues._

_She grinned at him, and said, “Suck it up, big brother. This is only the beginning.”_

_Oh, God. There was no way he’d get out of it._

_“Too much pain in your past, Derek. It’s time you learned touch can feel good,” she said gently as she put her hand over his. He felt the tension in his muscles melt away and realized she was siphoning pain out of him. But he hadn’t been in pain, had he? Tense, yes, but…_

_“You’re so used to it, you don’t even realize it hurts, do you? To always be on edge. Well, it’s just us, now. And it’s gonna be just us for a while. We have no responsibilities to anyone else and all the time we want. _And_ we’re having filet mignon for dinner.” _

_She sounded so happy at the idea of the juicy steak, he couldn’t help but smile. It was his favorite, too. She squeezed his hand and smiled back at him._

_“Are we going to go all the way to Baha?” he asked._

_“No. After Big Sur, we’re heading north. We’ll follow the coast all the way to Newport, Oregon. Then we can go west to Corvallis, Bend, and, you know... Burns.”_

_“We’re going to visit the Sheffield pack?” That had been the pack their aunt Nina, Peter's wife, had come from. The Alpha was her brother, their 'uncle Bruno'. He was not against the idea, just surprised she'd want to visit them after all this time._

_“… I lived there for six years, Derek. When I left to find you, I promised uncle Bruno I’d bring you for a visit, and I miss everyone.”_

_“You lived with the Sheffield pack? How…? When did…? How come we never knew, Cora? Why…”_

_“It’s a long story, Derek.”_

_“You wouldn't tell me where you’d been all this time. Why not? And why are you telling me now?”_

_“Telling you about it is going to bring up a lot of things I wasn’t sure you wanted to know, and others I wasn’t sure you wanted to talk about, but I think we need to discuss these things, now. I think we both need it.”_

_“How…”_

_“I tell you what. We have hours. Let me tell it to you my way, OK?”_

_“All right.”_

TBC


	3. Feels like pack

When Derek pulls up, the cruiser is not in the driveway, but Stiles’ Jeep is. It looks good. It has a new paint job, (still baby blue) and even a new soft top. Derek hopes, for Stiles’ sake, that after his meeting with a tree the jeep may have needed a new engine and not just lipstick and rouge. The old gearbox was a real bitch.

The vacuum is going inside and Stiles is singing “Moves like Jaegger” loudly, not badly either, probably listening to his iPod. Derek can picture him dancing along and wishes he could see him as well as hear him. As uncoordinated as he usually is, Stiles is actually a pretty good dancer, totally uninhibited.

Ringing the bell, or even pounding on the door will probably not yield much result. Derek pulls out his phone and texts “I’m at the front door” to S. Stilinski. Hopefully, Stiles has his phone in his pocket, set on vibrate.

Ten seconds later the door is opened and Derek has an armful of Stiles, who’s hugging the hell out of him. Derek is surprised but very pleased and chuckles, because the vacuum is screaming, probably sucking up the curtains or something. He can hear the music blaring from Stiles headphones next to his ear. No one has touched him since he left Cora six days ago, and the hug feels really good. Not giving himself time to think too much, he wraps his arms around Stiles and hugs him back, taking a deep breath, all his senses singing, affirming, “Home, pack, comfort, Stiles”. Stiles goes a little stiff at the embrace, probably realizing what he’d done without thinking, but then relaxes against Derek, laughing.

“I missed you, Sourwolf,” he says, a little too loudly, because of the headphones.

Derek backs away and pops out Stiles ear buds. Smiling, he answers, “I missed you too.”

Stiles looks a little thrown by that, both by the smile and the expressed sentiment, but his grin is bright. “Let me shut this thing off,” he says, and walks to the living room, obviously expecting Derek to come in behind him. Derek shuts the door and follows Stiles to the living room where everything has suddenly gone quiet. Stiles jams the cushions back in place on the couch, and wraps the unplugged cord around the vacuum handle like he has obviously done a thousand times before.

“Sit. Let me…” he makes a wild gesture with the vacuum hose and carries the whole thing to the hallway closet.

”Where is Cora? Where did you guys go?” Stiles is in the kitchen, now. He returns holding two open bottles of Perrier and a basket full of dry roasted almonds. Still making sure there is nothing in the pantry to tempt his dad off his diet, obviously.

He hands Derek one of the bottles. “You don’t need a glass, do you? How long have you been back?”

“We drove up the coast, and visited our uncle Bruno’s pack, where Cora lived after the fire. She’s flying in tomorrow. I just drove in yesterday morning.”

For a moment, Stiles looks astonished to have gotten answers to his questions, as if he had only expected to be ignored. Derek holds back another chuckle, joking to himself that seeing him laugh might be too much of a shock to Stiles… 

“Scott will be glad to see you. He has a lot of questions about running his pack. Deaton’s helping him a lot, but still.”

Derek wishes Scott thought as well of him as Stiles thinks he does. “I saw him yesterday afternoon, actually. And Allison and Isaac when I checked in with Chris Argent, and the twins and Lydia this morning at Starbucks.”

“Oh… Saved the best for last, eh?” jokes Stiles, but Derek can see a little hurt in his eyes, though he is not sure if it’s because none of his friends bothered to tell him Derek had returned or if it is indeed because Derek came to him last.

“I’m an Omega in another pack’s territory, now. I had to check in with the Alpha and with the Hunter first thing. I only ran into the others by chance,” Derek clarifies. “I would have climbed in through your window last night, but you weren’t home.”

Stiles looks happily surprised by his admission, like he’s used to being last on the totem pole, even though it hurts. “I was at the office with my Dad,” he explains apologetically. “I’m doing filing and stuff for the department, and entering some case data on the computer as a part time job. It pays better than busing tables, and it gives me access to a lot of info, if we ever need it. And I can do my homework pretty much anywhere, so…”

“Nothing better to do on a Friday night?”

“Pretty sad, eh?” Stiles shrugs. “Everybody was at Lydia’s watching a movie. My Dad’s shift started at five so I took my jeep thinking I’d join them there after a few hours but, I don’t know, I really didn’t feel like it. I was tired. I ended up falling asleep on my Dad’s couch at the office, and then coming home with him around two.”

Actually, Derek notices that Stiles still looks tired. He has dark circles under his eyes, and he looks thin. Thinner.

“Is senior year taking its toll?” Derek guesses.

“What? Nah… I have almost all AP classes, and I’m actually playing Lacrosse this year, but it’s not bad really. I just haven’t been sleeping all that well. Deaton did tell us that what we did to try and save our parents would have consequences, and he was right…” Stiles looks like he wants to say more, maybe, but then checks himself, not wanting to dwell on negative things, though Derek wishes Stiles felt free to unload, would be confident he could do that with Derek. “But your uncle’s been helping,” adds Stiles, smiling at him gratefully, as if Derek had something to do with that.

That’s a surprise. Stiles has always been pretty ambivalent about Peter. “You’ve been in contact with him?”

“Yeah.” Again, a grateful smile. “He’s called a few times. He’s been sending me some things in the mail, occasionally. To Lydia, too. We’ve had coffee with him a couple of times. It turns out he knows what it’s like, to carry that darkness around. He said that for a long time, when he was at the hospice, he lingered in that place too, neither alive nor dead.” 

Stiles seems lost somewhere for a second, a far away, haunted look on his usually open face. He shakes it off and continues. “Apparently after we killed him, he went back there again. At first he was not sure why he did. He said he’d fully expected to move on. But he realized he was tethered to Lydia. He told us he did not intend for _that_ to happen. He’d bit her because he wanted to turn her, to force her to join his pack but that, regardless of how it may have seemed later, he did not have any other nefarious intent. Not that I approve of him forcing the bite on people, but he was not really thinking straight. He needed a strategist, she was there. After that failed, he offered to bite me, and let me go when I said no. I guess he’d rethought the whole forcing people thing.”

Cora has another explanation for that difference. As far as not realizing the consequences of biting Lydia, Cora has also said as much, though Derek was not convinced at the time. He knows from experience how manipulative Peter can be. Stiles perhaps sees that, because he adds, “Lydia believes him, and so do I. He had no way to know she was a magical creature. Peter ended up bonded to her, and he kept pulling her under until he realized he could use that tether to come back. She said she felt the same pull from me when I was in that tub and she was anchoring me, though that time, she knew why. So, she hasn’t died like we did, but she’s been living with the darkness too.” Stiles waves his hand as if to apologize for the heavy turn the conversation has taken, and shrugs.

Derek would let it go, but he does need to find Peter. “So… you know where he is?” he asks.

Stiles doesn’t seem to mind his question. “Well, for the past couple of weeks, he’s been in Idaho, visiting a pack connected to the Hale pack through your Grandmother Susannah, I think he said? He’s been traveling a lot, visiting different packs, since you left.”

Grammy Sue’s old pack? Why in the world… Derek lets it go. “But he has a place here in Beacon Hills, right?” It’s weird Stiles should know more about his uncle than he does. 

“Yeah, he does. A house downtown somewhere, but I’m not sure where though. He just bought it not too long ago.” Stiles chuckles. “He’s been consulting with Lydia on interior decorating, they’re exchanging paint chips and pictures of couches and stuff. She loves it.” He shakes his head. “He’s totally got her number, and she, his. First he apologized to her for what happened, and now he’s having her spend his money by proxy, and she’s making sure he knows her forgiveness doesn’t come cheap. I can’t wait to actually see the house. It’s going to be spectacular.”

Lydia and Peter _are_ birds of a feather, Derek supposes. Both incredibly smart, manipulative, and determined. Allied, they would certainly be a force to be reckoned with. 

“So you know how to reach him? His cell-phone service was discontinued, and he hasn’t gotten in touch.”

Stiles nods in understanding. “He got rid of his old phone. Then he said you and Cora needed a break and some sister-brother bonding time. I’ll text you his number and text him that you’re back.”

“Thanks.”

Stiles takes out his phone and types quickly. He put it away again, as Derek’s cell vibrates in his pocket. He’ll call Peter later. He wants to spend some time with Stiles first. 

“So,” Stiles said, “tell me about your trip.” He settles in comfortably as if he wants the long version, making Derek feel good.

It’s still not really easy for Derek to talk a lot, but he’s counting on Stiles to ask questions. “We started in Big Sur, and then slowly made our way up the coast. We stayed in places by the ocean, and just… relaxed, I guess. We had a lot to talk about. It was good.”

“I went to Big Sur with my parents as a kid, but…” Stiles starts, but his phone interrupts, the ring tone some dance song that says, “It get stuck on repeat, repeat, repeat, get stuck on repeat, repeat, repeat…” and Derek cannot help but smile.

“Peter!” says Stiles. “Yes. He’s here. OK.” He puts his phone on speaker and places it on the table.

“Derek, I’m glad to hear you’re back. Is Cora with you?” Peter sounds… really good.

“I just drove in yesterday and she’s flying into Sacramento from Portland tomorrow at 11:00AM.”

“How serendipitous. I’m lending at 10:30. I’ll bring her home, shall I?” Derek is surprised at how glad he feels about seeing Peter so soon. “So, nephew, where are you staying?”

“In a hotel.”

“Hm… I’m sorry there isn’t any way for you to get into my new place. But Stiles can put you up till tomorrow, won’t you, Stiles?”

Stiles answers, “Of course,” as if it is perfectly natural for Derek’s uncle to offer up the Stilinski’s guest room to Derek.

“I’m fine at the hotel,” he protests.

Stiles rolls his eyes and Peter dismisses his objection with “Don’t be ridiculous,” as if Derek is the one being weird. Peter then asks, moving on as if the subject is closed. “I suppose you spoke to Alpha McCall?”

“I did. He… hasn’t made a decision as to our position here yet.” And that still burns.

“Don’t let it bother you Derek. Remember, the boy has no clue.” Peter seems to think for a moment. “He won’t make you pack, but he’ll offer you shelter, I’m sure. Try to include me in there while you are at it, why don’t you?” as if that was of no import. Derek gets the feeling Peter is up to something.

“How do you know he won’t take us in?” he asks.

“We can discuss it tomorrow over lunch. I’ll pick up Chinese. Will your father be in attendance, Stiles?” Did Peter really just invite himself for lunch at Stiles?

“No. He has the day shift,” Stiles replies, as if it’s totally fine for Peter to be co-opting his home. Just how close have they become?

“Pity. See you tomorrow, then.” And without any further explanations, Peter hangs up.

“What did your uncle mean about Scott?” Stiles asks immediately, frowning.

“Don’t worry about it,” answers Derek, because Peter is right, Scott means nothing by it.

“I’m not worried about it. What did Scott do that you shouldn’t let bother you?” insist Stiles.

Derek knows from experience that Stiles won’t let it go. He sighs. “I’m an Omega in his territory. Cora and Peter will be too. He is the Alpha. He can take Cora, Peter and I in his pack, or allow us shelter within the territory or ask us to leave. It’s completely his decision.“

“So… what’s the problem?”

Derek hates to explain, because he doesn’t want to make Stiles uncomfortable. Scott is his best friend. “There is really no problem. It’s just… I approached him as soon as I got into town, as a visiting Omega should. Coming from any other Alpha, the fact that I have to wait for an answer would be… a slight.”

“Why?”

“An Alpha knows if he needs or wants more Betas. If not, he knows the strength of his pack and whether or not he can allow non-pack werewolves shelter in his territory without disturbing its equilibrium. There would be no insult if he asked us to leave. We would not even require an explanation. Sometimes, it’s just not the right time and he is the only one who knows.”

“So he should have told you his answer right away,” says Stiles, nodding.

“Well, it is doubly true in Scott’s case, of course, because he already knows me, knows all of us. As the Alpha, he has a gut feeling about whether he wants any of us as Betas already. He also knows the effect our presence would have on his pack.” Fuck. Talking about it is making it worse. Derek knows he should not resent it, but… “ _Scott_ was allowed shelter in Hale territory for two fuck… for two years. If our presence is unwelcome, he could just say so, and it would be fine. When he says, “I’ll have to think about it…” Well…”

“He’s being a dick,” Stiles concludes.

“No,” says Derek. And he _means_ that. “Scott is new to this. He… I’m sure he made his decision right away, I think he may be…” Derek makes eye contact with Stiles, to make sure Stiles understand there is no slight intended in his next words, “… insecure about it. He probably wants to consult with Deaton or with you, to make sure he’s not making a mistake, not realizing that his hesitation _is_ the mistake. Pack relations were hard for me to navigate, and I was born to this. Scott is sailing blind. As Peter says, he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Stiles doesn’t look so sure. He actually looks a bit angry. “Well,” he says, “he certainly hasn’t consulted _me_ about it. And the few times we talked about pack stuff, he’s said, “I’ll just ask Derek when he gets back. He _is_ being a dick.” 

Stiles moves to get his phone out but Derek stops him, a hand on his wrist. “Stiles, don’t. It will be fine, really. Trust me.”

Stiles looks at him, and Derek raises his eyebrows in emphasis. Stiles smirks at that, just as Derek hoped, and grabs Derek’s hand as it comes off his wrist, squeezing it a little.

“OK,” Stiles says. “Fine.”

Stiles lets go of Derek’s hand, not even aware that he has used touch to communicate support, acceptance and affection. It was casual, unselfconscious, so much like the communication within a pack that Derek’s throat closes a little. Derek tells himself Stiles has been around werewolves long enough that he was bound to pick up some of their habits while carefully ignoring Cora’s voice, which echo in his head with words that are too close to what he hopes to be anything but wishful thinking.

“Well, let me show you the guest room then,” says Stiles, walking to the stairs.

“Stiles, I can stay at the hotel, I don’t want to impose. Your Dad…”

“My dad will probably be happy to have someone around to answer some of his questions.” Stiles stopped and turned to Derek, standing on the first step. “If you don’t _want_ to stay here, I understand, if you want privacy or whatever, but… I’d really like it if you stayed.” He shrugs a little apologetically. “I… Well… it would be nice to have someone around? Since…” He waves his hand, encompassing all the crap that happened with the Alpha pack and the Darach in one motion, “…I can’t really sleep if my dad’s not home, if I don’t feel… safe.”

Derek watches Stiles look at his feet. He feels warmed that Stiles would share such a personal thing with him, or perhaps by the trust implied. Regardless, this is something real, something tangible that clarifies how Stiles views their relationship. “You would feel safe with me here?”

Stiles looks up at him as if Derek is just being stupid. “Pft! Like you don’t always put yourself between me and whatever is coming at us. Of course I would. …I trust you.” Stiles shrugs and looks at his feet again, feeling exposed by his admission perhaps.

Drawing strength from one another, trusting each other, feeling safe within the group. All feelings that define a pack. Scott may never have considered Derek as pack, but Stiles obviously _still_ does.

“I’d much rather be here, truthfully,” Derek says. “I’ve had enough of hotels for a while.”

“All right, then,” says Stiles smiling. Moving on, he starts up the stairs again. “It’s a bit Spartan in there, but it hasn’t been used in a while, and the sheets and blankets were dried outside so it should smell all right.”

The room is small and sunny, the wall paper has a slightly faded pattern of delicate pink roses. The bare floor is waxed hard wood, the old-fashioned wrought iron bed queen-size with white cotton sheet, a pale green wool blanket and a handmade quilt folded over the bottom rail. A wood tea tray on a folding frame serves as a night table, with a small plain bedside lamp on it, and the four drawer chest is oak, and smells of bee’s wax. Stiles opens the window, which overlooks the back yard and the sheer curtains move gently in the breeze.

“I dusted in here a couple days ago. The closet has boxes and stuff in it, sorry.” He wipes his hand on his thighs and looks uncertain. 

Derek takes off his leather jacket and hangs it on one of the hooks behind the door and throws his wallet on top of the dresser. As he was hoping, these small gestures reassure Stiles that Derek feels at ease in the room. He doesn’t question Stiles as to why a kid his age would find himself dusting a room no one ever uses in his spare time, but he does wonder about it. “I’ll go get my bag from the trunk,” he says.

“I’m going to go see what I can rustle up for dinner. My Dad will be home soon,” says Stiles.

Derek goes and grabs his bag, and calls and cancels his reservation at the hotel. He’d taken everything from there with him that morning already, hoping to track down Peter. He goes upstairs and drop the bag on the floor under the window. There are a couple of areas on the wall where the paper is slightly brighter, and where there are small holes in the plaster. Pictures that were hanging there have been removed. There are a couple of pins caught between the floor boards too. Derek wonders if this was Claudia Stilinski’s sawing room. His mother had one, well, a hobby room, really, where she kept her sawing machine, her knitting stuff and the photos she’d eventually put in photo albums. She also had a nice chair in there, where she came to read in peace, and the collection of stone eggs she’d had since she was a girl. It had been her private space in the busy household, and you had to have a pretty solid reason to disturb her and knock on her door when she was in there.

Derek passes Stiles open door as he heads back down. That room is cluttered with teenage boy stuff, but the bed is made, the trash and the laundry basket empty and the carpet vacuumed. He’s never seen it look so… organized. He takes in a lungful of Stiles scented air, ignoring the specifics he could easily identify, which would be a violation of Stiles'privacy, but just enjoying the feelings it evokes in him. Belonging, protectiveness, home. The faded echo of Lydia’s usual “L’Air du Temps” is there, adding a pleasing note. Darek cannot wait for Cora and Peter to get here.

Derek starts down the stairs but stop, hearing Stiles on the phone with his dad.

“…in the guest room.”

“Of course it’s fine. I’ll feel better with someone being there with you when I’m at work, anyway.”

“Well, it’s only probably for one night. His uncle Peter will be back tomorrow.”

“Hm. That’s too bad. I was kinda hoping for some steaks in my future. Surely werewolves need lots of red meat, no?” The sheriff sound pathetically hopeful.

“Yeah. Nice try, dad. Derek’s a vegetarian.”

“You are shitting me!” The sheriff sounds outrage at the injustice of it all.

Stiles bursts out laughing. “I am. They don’t eat any differently than we do, though Dad. Just more.”

“Oh, well. Regardless, tell him he’s welcome as long as he wants, OK?”

“Tell him yourself.”

“I will. I’ll pick up some dessert on the way home.”

“And you would do that because?”

“Well, nothing says welcome to our home better than apple pie a la mode, son, don’t you know that?”

“Nothing says welcome to our home better than strawberry sorbet, dad. The one from Clabber’s, with nothing but fruit and juice, _not_ their sherbert with milk and cream. That one says “We want you to die of a heart attack.” OK?” 

“Fine. Spoilsport. See you shortly.”

Reassured of the sheriff’s welcome, Derek rejoins Stiles in the kitchen.

“I decided to defrost some lasagna I made a while back. It’s vegetarian, but it’s good. And I’m making a salad. Is that OK?”

“The stuff in the oven smells great. I could, uh… set the table?” Derek is not handy in the kitchen.

“Sure. The dishwasher just ran. You should be able to get everything right out of there. I called my dad to tell him you were here…”

“I know. I’m sorry, I caught the end of your conversation, the part about the red meat,” says Derek, chuckling.

“I’m right, right? Werewolves don’t eat more meat than other people, do they?”

The way Stiles phrases his question is so telling. He did not ask if werewolves eat more meat than _people_ , or if they it more meat than _normal_ people. He asked as he would ask about athletes, or Norwegians, or any particular group of _people_.

“My brother Michael had been a vegetarian after he started college. My mom liked fish better than meat. So, no, just like you said. We just eat more because we have a higher metabolism, but not differently.”

Stiles phone rings. Appropriately, it’s “Hungry like the wolf” by Duran Duran.

“Hey Scott. What’s up.” Stiles makes no effort to isolate himself, so Derek makes none to not listen in.

“Hey Stiles. Where were you last night?”

“I fell asleep at the station, and came home with my dad. How was the movie?”

Scott laughs. “I fell asleep on the couch. So did Allison. Seems we sleep better when we’re with people, like you said. I couldn’t even tell you how it started. So, hey. Derek is back in town.”

“I know. He’s here.”

“Oh. Hey, that’s cool. Tell him he and Cora are welcome to stay as long as they want, OK?” 

“Uh, Dude, I think you need to tell him that yourself.”

“Well, I was gonna call him last night, but, as I said, I fell asleep. So if he’s there…”

“Scott. Seriously? _You_ need to tell him. Not me.”

“Fuck, Stiles, you sound like Allison. What’s the big deal?”

“You’re the Alpha, Scott! _That’s_ the big deal. You need to start acting like it. You certainly were critical enough when Derek had the job.”

“I never asked for it, Stiles.”

“Neither did he. And don’t give me that shit about him wanting it and not giving you the chance to kill your sire, because I’ve shown you more than enough evidence that that’s complete bullshit for you to actually be _grateful_ that he did not let you become the Alpha two years ago by killing Peter, when you could hardly control the change as it was.”

“Well, he just offered to let Isaac kill him so he could be fully human again, so…”

“And Isaac obviously said no, which I’m guessing was exactly the point. It’s about god damn time he admitted becoming a werewolf is the best thing that ever happened to him and stop bitching about it!”

“Well, that was a shitty thing for Derek to do…”

“Yeah. And forcing Derek to bite Gerard wasn’t? And never telling Allison that Derek bit her mother to save your life wasn’t? And making him, Cora and Peter wait two days to tell them they are welcome in what has been the Hale territory for close to two hundred years wasn’t? Are we even having this conversation? You know Derek’s number. Do what’s fucking right, Scott!”

“Sti…” Stiles hungs up. He iss shaking a little. He takes a deep breath and says, “I’m sorry, Derek. I shouldn’t have…”

Derek’s phone rings, and Stiles just says “Sorry” again, and leaves the room. Derek hears the front door open and close. He picks up the phone.

“Yeah.”

“Derek? Is Stiles there?”

“No. He stepped out.”

“Oh. OK. So, anyway. I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner. I should have. Of course, you and your family are welcome in Beacon Hills. I don’t think having you guys in my pack would work, but this is and has always been your home. I hope we can all work together if the need arises. Uh… Allison and her Dad have also found out the conditions under which Mrs. Argent was bitten, and I hope that will make things easier between you.”

“Thank you,” said Derek, who, though he has just witnessed the dressing down Stiles has handed his friend, is genuinely grateful to be allowed to stay.

“Uh… I didn’t tell them. Lydia told Allison. But I should have. A long time ago. And I should have shared my plan about Gerard with you. And Stiles. It would have made things a lot easier. For everyone.”

“I meant thank you for granting us the freedom of the old Hale territory," corrects Derek. "It means a lot. As for the rest, Scott, we all made mistakes. I think it is best to move on, and look forward. You can always call on me if you need it, Scott. I mean it. And I have been disingenuous in my recent conversation with Isaac. I believe that once you become a werewolf, there is no going back. I was attempting to clarify some misunderstandings that existed between he and I. Of course, from now on, if I ever have a problem with one of your Betas, I will come and discuss it with you, and let you deal with the situation as you see fit.”

“Uh… OK. That’s great.”

Derek has meant every word he has said. But just for shits and giggles, he adds: “So, how did the twins deal with their loss of Alpha status?”

There is utter silence at the other end of the line. Then, “… Fuck, Derek. You know I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about,” admits Scott.

“The Alpha pack went against nature, Scott, and was only possible because of Decalion’s outrageous power. There can never be more than one Alpha in a pack, unless he or she is the Alpha’s mate. The twins need to relinquish their Alpha status and submit to you, if they want in your pack, or you have to send them away. Otherwise, they can challenge you at any time. And if you recall, together as Alphas, they are pretty unbeatable…”

“Well, they act as if they’re in the pack, so…”

“You have never formally asked them to join your pack?”

“No.”

“You need to talk about this to Deaton, or to Chris Argent. Actually, Chris Argent might be easier to get straight answers out of. Deaton’s goal is to maintain the balance, supposedly while staying neutral. As far as I remember, you will have to formally invite them in your pack, and if they accept, they will have to submit to you. I remember my mother accepting another Alpha into our pack. Her aunt, who was the widow of the Alpha in another pack. She was an old lady. But I was a little kid so I'm not too clear on the details. I think my mom bit her, but I’m not sure. At least I’m not sure if it was a real bite, or a ritual one. And then her Aunt’s eyes were golden again, not red, and she was with us as a Beta until she died. She made the best meatballs.”

Scott cracks up. “I don’t think these two can cook, but I get what you’re saying. Shit, being the Alpha really sucks, Derek.”

“Believe me,” answers Derek, meaning it wholeheartedly. “You are welcome to it.”

”Thanks a lot. Hey, you may not have heard earlier, but Stiles and I had a bit of a disagreement. Could you… Could you tell him we’re cool, you and I? We are, right?”

“We are. Yeah, I’ll tell him.”

“Great. Bye, Derek.”

Derek put his phone away and walks out the front door. He finds Stiles standing on the porch, chewing his thumb nail. They stand side by side for a moment before Stiles says, “I am sorry if what I said to Scott made you uncomfortable. You asked me earlier to leave it alone and I…”

After the briefest hesitation, Derek raises his hand and places it on Stiles shoulder. “Scott is your best friend. I’d rather you guys not fight on my behalf but, regardless, well… Thank you. Scott and I are fine, now.” He removes his hand, and Stiles turns to look at him. Derek is mildly surprised that they are the same height. Derek adds, “My uncle, my sister and I have been granted the freedom of Beacon Hills and of the Hale territory, with no time limits. I’ve told Scott to come to me if he needs help.”

“So, you guys are cool?”

“We are.”

“Great.” Stiles smiles, then turned when he hears his father’s cruiser turn onto the street. “Man, he needs steering fluid,” he mumbles.

Derek makes a face. “And a new belt, and new brakes.”

“Oh, he’s gonna be thrilled to hear that,” says Stiles, chuckling.

“Is this some weird welcoming comity?” asks the sheriff, slamming his door and looking up at them. He smiles and nods to Derek.

“Yes, Dad. You can expect that every night, from now on. I wanted to go for the twelve gun salute, but Derek thought it might be a bit much.”

“Thank you for that, Mr Hale,” says the sheriff. “Even after all I’ve learned this past few months, few things frighten me more than the thought of a gun in my son’s hands…”

“Gee, thanks, Dad.”

“His brain is his best weapon,” answers Derek, truthfully. “Please, sir, call me Derek.”

“Really?” asks Stiles, looking pleasantly pleased.

“Though the cutting sarcasm comes in close second,” adds Derek, deadpan.

Stiles grins. He grabs a plastic bag that said Clabber’s on the front from his dad, and walks in. The sheriff gestures for Derek to follow Stiles in then jokes, “Stiles was wrong. Werewolves are not constitutionally unable to use front doors. He had some theory about all of you needing to enter houses exclusively through windows…”

“Oh, haha, Dad. You are so funny.”

“We only use windows to instill fear in unruly teenage boys who think the world is safe,” says Derek, pointedly. 

“And when their fathers are sheriffs who want them for murder,” adds Stiles from the kitchen.

“And does it work?” asks John ignoring Stiles comment, taking off his gun belt and placing it along with the gun in the cookie jar on the kitchen counter.

“Not for as long as one would hope,” says Derek.

“Some are harder to impress, perhaps because their father keep loaded guns in cookie jars,” comments Stiles.

“Hm. You might have a point, there,” admits the sheriff, gazing silently inside the jar for a moment before replacing the lid with a shrug. He turns to Derek. “I would think that glower of yours would be pretty efficient at intimidation though,” he surmises.

Derek sighed, and shakes his head regretfully. “Nah. At least in your son’s case, I fear it was all pointless in the end. He pretty much always was, and probably always will remain utterly unimpressed.”

“That’s not true. You used to scare the shit out of me!” protests Stiles.

“What, the first month or two?” asks Derek, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles thinks for a minute, then relents with a shrug. “Point,” he says.

“I blame these damn video games,” says the sheriff pensively, and Derek nods slowly, in agreement.

“I see how this is going to be,” says Stiles. “Derek, you are disinvited. Go to a hotel.” He turns to his dad. “And no dessert for you!”

The oven beeps and John gets the lasagna out. “Stir the salad, will you Derek?” They both sit down, totally ignoring Stiles, who cracks up and joins them.

Derek is surprised at how comfortable he is bantering with the sheriff, and how benevolent John Stilinski acts. He wonders what Stiles has told his father about him, and as Stiles laughs out loud at one of his father’s joke, he feels an intense warmth towards the man. Stiles gets up to dish out the ice cream, and the sheriff says to Derek, “I’m really glad you’re here, Derek. I’ve not seen Stiles this relaxed in a long time. He really thought you were gone for good, I think, and he felt bad because he thought you believed no one cared.”

“I didn’t think I would be back,” answers Derek honestly. “But with time and distance, I remembered there was more in Beacon Hills than bad memories. My uncle, my sister and I may be all that’s left of the Hale pack, but we belong here. And it seems a few other people might think so too.”

“When will your uncle and sister be back?”

“Tomorrow. Actually, I believe we are all having lunch here,” says Derek, apologetically.

“I know your uncle has a house in town, but don't feel you have to run out. Scott and Stiles don’t seem to live in each others pocket as much as they used too, and I think… Well, Stiles seems lonely, in a way he hasn’t been since his… in a long time. I'm sure you are looking forward to being with your family, but…”

“I’m a werewolf, sheriff. I need to be with my pack,” says Derek, trying to reassure him.

The sheriff sighs. “Yes. Of course. I understand.”

Derek is so bad at this. “No, sir. You don’t. I need to be with my pack, and Stiles _is_ part of my pack, just as much as my uncle or my sister. I can feel the weight of what he has been through pressing on him. I would not abandon him to face it alone when you’re not able to be there with him.”

“You’re right," says the sheriff. "I don’t understand. Stiles said he wasn’t even sure you two were friends."

Remembering Stiles diatribe to Scott, Derek knows for a fact Stiles is his friend, but what proof had he ever given Stiles that the reverse is true? 

“These past couple of years have been hard. I was thrust in a position I was never meant to hold, the Alpha of a pack. I made so many mistakes, I mishandled so many situations. I overlooked a lot of things while trying to keep us all alive, and even in that, I failed. Being an Alpha was overwhelming. I was running on instinct half the time, forgetting my human side. With Stiles being human, it was hard for me to think of him as pack, and with me being so near the wolf, it was hard for him to see me as a friend. But both were true.”

“So humans can be part of a pack.”

“Absolutely.”

“And Stiles is in your pack.”

“I’m not an Alpha anymore. And I am not part of Scott McCall’s pack. Yet, Stiles feels like pack, smells like pack. I don’t know. Hopefully my uncle can make sense of it. He was considered an authority on pack lore, tradition and laws when my family was alive.”

“I don’t know what to think about that man. I’m not sure how to feel about him being around Stiles. He is a murderer. According to Stiles, he was in a coma for six years, then he killed your sister and all the people who had hurt your family. Then you all killed him together, and he returned from the dead? And was snarky and unhelpful and verging on insane? Is that someone you’d want associating with your teenager?”

“Since he has been back, he has progressively become more and more like his old self," said Derek. "Cora, my sister, sees him in a much different light than I do. She didn't know him after the coma, before he died, when he truly was... insane. To her, he seems much as he ever was, her favorite uncle. Recently, he risked his life to save ours. Now, apparently, he has been helping Stiles and Lydia for weeks. I’m not sure what to think. He asked if you would be home tomorrow, and seemed disappointed that you wouldn't be.”

"Really? I just might. I would love to talk to that man."

Stiles came in with the bowls of sorbet.

“What took you so long?” asked his dad. Then, looking in his bowl, “Oh, my god! Is that whipped cream?”

Stiles was smiling. “Yes, all right? The real thing, too. I had heavy cream in the back of the fridge to put in my cocoa, and decided to make your day. There are fresh strawberries in there too.”

The sheriff took a bitefull and sighed in bliss. “You are my favorite son.”

“I am your only son,” Stiles reminded him.

“Shut up. I’m eating,” said his dad.

Stiles smiled at Derek, happy to have made his dad happy, and Derek smiled back, hoping more than ever that his sister was right.


	4. On the road, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road chapters take place during Cora and Derek's trip, following their departure after season 3A. This takes place immediately after On the road, part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is completely AU following 3A. Nothing from 3B will make it's way into it AT ALL.  
> The "On the road" chapters give Peter, Derek, Laura and Cora's back story,looking at their past in a new way.

On the road, Part 2.

 

_“Do you remember when Uncle Peter was send away to spend some time with the Sheffield pack?” asked Cora._

_“Yes, I remember.” Derek had not thought of Paige in a very long time._

_“Why was he sent away, Derek?” Cora's tone made it sound as if she already knew._

_“Do you know why?” he asked, just to be sure._

_“I know some of it, but I'd like to hear your version.”_

_Derek thought about it. It was a long time ago. She'd probably heard Peter's version already. She might as well hear his. He started._

_“When I was barely fifteen, I had a girlfriend named Paige. She was sweet and beautiful and a gifted cellist. I was afraid to lose her, if she ever found out what I was. Peter suggested it wouldn’t be an issue if she were one of us, if she were bitten and turned. We knew Mom would never approve of that plan, so Peter asked Ennis, an Alpha who needed a bigger pack and wanted an alliance with ours to give her the bite. She didn't turn, though. Not everyone does. Some people's body just reject it, and it kills them. The bite poisoned her and… she was in a lot of pain. I knew there was no hope for her, so when she begged me to, I took her life. I loved her. I had just wanted us to be together forever and then... she was gone.”_

_Derek sighed. “Mom had to deal with covering up what had happened, had to deal with the Argents, had to forget a possible alliance with Ennis’s pack. It was a mess. I was... devastated. She felt that losing Paige was punishment enough for me, but she was really angry at Peter, who was old enough to know better. He was twenty-five, but still acted like an irresponsible teenager. She sent him to Uncle Bruno’s pack, hoping that being out from under her shadow would give him a chance to grow up. And she was right, as always.”_

_Cora smiled. “I remember when he came back, when he brought Aunt Nina back, how much calmer he seemed, how happy he was. Remember when Jake was born? Peter was such a great dad.”_

_“Yeah. He was.” Nina, Bruno's sister and Dad's cousin, had been eight years older than Peter, but definitely Peter's mate. Their love had been like a tangible thing. Peter had been a fabulous dad. He would read for hours with baby Jake asleep on his arm, changed his diapers, brought him to Aunt Nina at night for feedings, and put him back to bed. He’d walked around bend in half for hours when Jake had been learning to walk, holding Jake’s pudgy little hands. He’d bathed with his son, played with him, and had treated Nina like she had given him the best present a man could ever have._

_“Do you ever think about how it was then, at home? What it was like living with our great big pack?”_

_“No. Most the time, I try _not_ to remember,” admitted Derek. He had killed them all._

_“But we should remember, you know? So they… continue to live in our mind. So they won’t just disappear. Mom and Dad, Michael, Laura, Patrick and Nora, and Aunt Nina and Jake, and Uncle Tim, Aunt Sandy, and Ben, Greta and Maya. And Grammy Sue, too.”_

_“Grammy and Laura didn’t die in the fire.”_

_“No. But I want to remember all the happy times… When we were all together. I don’t remember Grandpa. I was too little when he died. In my mind, Mom was always the Alpha, and Grammy was always there, too, Mom’s second, nodding wisely at whatever Mom said.” She chuckled._

_“We are of one mind on this, children…” quoted Derek, imitating Grammy's gentle but firm tone and he smiled a little. “Grammy used to say it the same way when Grampa was alive. She was the perfect second, never arguing with her Alpha in public.”_

_“Yeah, I remember when something would come up and Mom would say, “Grammy and I are going to check the northern border.” Cora grinned, “You know they’d go out there and have it out until they _were_ of one mind, but never in front of us.” They both chuckled, now. _

_Cora continued, “I remember when Grammy died. It wasn’t sad. She said she was tired, that she was going to join Grampa Jake, because she missed him too much. Then Mom said they had decided Uncle Peter would become her second, and Grammy chuckled and said: “We are of one mind on this, children.” Mom said she would really miss hearing that.”_

_Derek remembered that day. He had been seventeen. It had been a beautiful spring day. He’d loved Grammy Sue, and yet, even as they were busy celebrating her life, he’d been wondering if he’d be able to get away and meet with the woman who had him enthralled with the pleasure she gave his adolescent body, the woman he thought was as much in love with him as he was with her. Fuck. He didn’t want to think about _that_._

_Cora asked softly, “Do you remember what Laura’s reaction was, when Mom made Peter her second?”_

_Now that she mentioned it… “Yes. She was pissed. I remember she’d gone in to talk to Mom and Grammy, and she left Grammy’s room in a huff. She’d calmed down after Dad talked to her though.”_

_He’d paid so little attention to what was going on that day. He was going to have to be in mourning, so it would be a while before he could justify going out “with his friends” in the evening, and he couldn’t imagine going one night without seeing Kate, without “making love” with her. He’d texted Kate to meet him at the public boat house by the lake in the preserve, and had waited for her there, showing her the hidden entrance to the tunnel leading to the Hale house, giving her the code to bypass the alarm system so she could get in through the tunnel and meet him in the basement, where there was a padded and sound insulated room to lock in newly turned wolves during their first full moons. It hadn’t been used in many years, because neither his mother nor his grandfather had ever turned anyone. No one ever went there anymore._

_It had become their refuge, though Kate had said she was worried about people becoming suspicious of her going to the boathouse all the time. So he’d showed her the other three escape tunnels, which had kept his family safe for almost two hundred years…_

_“Derek?” Cora asked, interrupting his painful and bitter recollections, “Who should have become the pack’s Alpha after Mom died?”_

_Uh… Derek had not ever given that any thought. After the fire, he’d been so crushed with guilt and grief…_

_“Hm… Uncle Peter, I suppose. But he was so badly hurt…”_

_“Yes. He was so badly hurt, and there was only one way for him to heal: He needed to be surrounded by his pack, to feel the support of his second, the need of his other pack members for him to get better. He needed their strength, _our_ strength, our love.”_

_Derek frowned. What Cora was saying was the obvious truth, and yet, Derek had never thought of it._

_After being quiet for a minute, she seemed to completely change topic. “The day of the fire, Dad was suppose to pick me up from primary school after work. But he got sick. Maureen, his usual assistant, red headed Maureen, with the freckles? She had had a car accident, remember? A hit and run? He had a temp, and she was not all that competent, but he could not say enough about how sweet she was?”_

_That did vaguely ring a bell. Derek had been so self absorbed at the time. Kate had been all he cared about, really._

_“She brought him coffee, put flowers in his office everyday… That day, the bouquet had wolfsbane in it, because Katie, the temp, did not know he was “Allergic” to wolfsbane… Maureen would have known to call Mom, for her to pick me up after work, but instead, Katie called the high school, and had them tell Laura to pick me up. They put a post it on her locker, but she went to cheer leading practice straight from class, I guess, and never got the note. If she had, both she and I would have been home as well, when the fire broke out. We would have died too. You had baseball practice. You would have caught a ride from someone later, instead of riding with Laura that day, and you would have been the only one to survive the fire…”_

_This was all new information to Derek. He and Laura had ridden home from school together as usual, unaware that anything was amiss. How did Cora know all this? Now that she mentioned it, he remembered Dad’s stalwart assistant’s little Miata being pushed into a busy intersection by an SUV, and how worried Dad had been about her. He remembered Dad’s frustration at having to make do with a woman who had the best intentions but was “no Maureen, and that’s for sure”. Where had Cora been all these years?_

_“What happened to you, then?” he asked._

_“Well, when no one showed up to pick me up, my teacher, Mrs. S. took me back to class with her and called Mom’s office. Mom had already left though, so she called the house. She was really close friend with Aunt Nina, my teacher, remember? Mrs. Stilinski? She and Nina’d been roommate in college? She told Nina she’d drop me off after she was done with a couple parent-teacher conferences. But then, an hour later, her husband, the sheriff, dropped their son Stiles back at the school, because there was an emergency. Small world, right?”_

_The fire. The emergency must have been the fire. Derek remembered the sheriff being at the house, putting his heavy jacket on Derek’s shoulders as he stood frozen, watching the firemen pull body bags out of the blackened and steaming ruin of his home, listening to the emergency workers wonder why no one had seemed to be able to get out after the fire started, how they seemed to have tried to get into the basement under the house. His is phone had vibrated with one last text from Kate. _”Tough luck, bb, but needs must. Thks for evrthng, ;)”_ ._

_“The sheriff must already have known how bad it was. He told Mrs. S. to take me home with her. I had no clue, obviously. Mrs. S. said I was to have a play-date and an overnight with Stiles. He was a class above mine, and he was so excited, it made me feel really special. We had pizza and ice cream for dinner. Mrs. S was on the phone a lot, standing on the porch, which was weird, but Stiles was so much fun. He could read like a grown up, making voices and everything, and he wasn’t mean about me wanting him to read some of my girl books and he even agree to play with the “My little ponies” figurines I had in my school bag. At bed time, his mom put us to sleep in his parent’s big bed, and Stiles let me borrow his batman PJs. When I got a little scared because I’d never had an overnight before, he could tell, and he took my hand. He said it had been the bestest playdate ever, and that he wanted us to be friends, even if Jackson Whittemore said girls had coodies. He was still holding my hand when we woke up in the morning.”_

_“His mother died a year later, I guess. No wonder Stiles didn’t remember any of this. And it’s weird. It didn’t occur to me that _that_ Stiles and _our_ Stiles were the same, for like, the longest time.” Cora shrugged. “Anyway, when we got down to the kitchen the next morning, Auntie Celia was there, with Sophie. Well, you remember about Sophie and I. Anytime we all got together with Uncle Bruno’s pack, she and I were inseparable. I was really excited to see her, we’d just spend the Easter vacation together and now I was to go back to uncle Bruno’s with them for a while. Stiles and Mrs. S got ready for school, and Stiles gave me a big hug before he left. He told Sophie she could come to our next play date if she wanted. Then, after they left, Auntie Celia told me what had happened, that there was an awful fire, and that only uncle Peter, Laura and you were still alive, and that we were all going to live at Uncle Bruno’s for a while, that you would join us soon. I talked to Laura on the phone, she said to be strong, that you would be there as soon as possible. I hardly remember the flight to Oregon and the car trip to the Sheffield house. Sophie was curled up with me, and I think they had send Celia because she was so good as taking pain away.”_

_Derek must have misheard. “You talked to Laura?”_

_“I did. She knew I was alive, Derek. She knew where I was, all along.”_

_Derek pulled the car over and stopped the engine. Cora had been alive, at Bruno’s, all along. It made no sense. “I thought you were dead. She never told me…” He tried to figure it out, to understand Laura’s reasoning, but nothing came. “Why did she not tell me?” His voice sounded bewildered and broken to his own ears._

_Cora put her hand on his. “It makes no sense to me either, Derek… I think the fire did something to her, the grief… I don’t know. Why else would she do what she did?”_

_Laura’s betrayal was already unconceivable, but it sounded as if…“There’s more, isn't there.” Derek felt numb, the numbness he always felt if facing his true feelings would end him._

_“Yes, Derek. There’s more." Cora squeezed his hand. "Do you want me to drive?”_

_Derek started the Camaro again. “No.”_

_The simple motions of driving focused him enough that he could ignore what he’d learn, not get overwhelmed by it, stay numb for a while. Cora seemed to sense that he’d had enough, and talked about all the trouble she and Sophie had gotten in through the years. He listened to her voice more than to the words, and drove, and got them to Big Sur. He shut his mind to everything but the sound of the surf, the beauty around them, his sister’s hand in his, and the fantastic filet mignon they were served for dinner. He had lived like that for years, after all, only allowing part of his thoughts to come through, though it had been his guilt he had kept shut away._

_He fell asleep easily in his luxurious bed, and dreamed of Stiles treading water while keeping him afloat. Strangely, it was a very good dream._

_He walked up at dawn, looked at Cora’s relaxed face, so like their mother’s, and went down to the beach for a walk. Laura had kept his little sister from him for years. Had she feared for their safety? Had she worried the people who had burned their family’s home would come after them? Is that why she had stayed away from Cora? Is that why she had ignored Bruno’s invitation?_

_They had abandoned Peter, left him completely alone in the care of humans, without his pack, without werewolves, taking away his only chance to heal. If they had they all gone to Bruno’s, had they given him their attention and support, Derek had no doubt now that he thought of it that Peter would have healed, would have been able to become their Alpha, would have been the strength, the core of the renewal of their pack._

_Derek had put all his faith in his sister, had shut down completely, escaping the pain and the guilt, had followed her blindly, and within a week of their departure from Beacon Hills, Laura had become the Alpha. It must have been when Peter had let go, had become aware that he was alone. He had probably thought he was the only one left alive, and had chosen not to heal. Laura had wanted to be Mom’s second after Grammy died. She always wanted to be the Alpha. Is that why she had done what she did?_

_For years, Derek had been completely dependent on her, had followed where she led, had loved her and admired her, had never even thought to question her. Now he scrambled to understand her, to find some logic, some reasonable explanation for her behavior._

_She had been young, so young. She had probably been terrified after what happened. He had never confessed to her his affair with Kate, his betrayal of the pack. She’d had no way to know how the rogue Hunters had gained access to the pack. She must have been concerned about bringing their attackers attention to the Sheffield pack, must have thought it was best to stay away. Laura must have known he would have refused to leave Cora behind, which is why she never told him Cora was alive, to keep her safe._

_Perhaps she had not thought the two of them would be enough to help Peter. Perhaps she had worried that had they stayed, they might be targeted by the hunters. Perhaps she had thought the two of them would evade attention, especially in a city as large as New-York, and that keeping away from all other wolves was the only way to keep them safe. Though it was flawed logic, he could make sense of her actions. It must have been it. Laura was a good person. She had been a good Alpha to him. She’d pushed him to get his high school equivalency, to take his SATs, to apply to college. She’d taken care of their finances, of the logistic of their everyday life, leaving him free to study. She’d been there for him every step of the way, encouraging him to go on to graduate school, to continue his education._

_Why had she returned to Beacon Hills? For weeks, she had seemed worried about something. The last few days before she left, she had been on edge. Had she known, somehow, that even though he had healed at human speed, Peter was waking from his catatonic state? That perhaps he was conscious enough to ask his nurse questions about the fire, to find out he was not the only survivor?_

_For the first time, he wondered what Peter’s thoughts must have been upon waking up, desperately alone. What had really happen between Peter and Laura before Derek returned?_

_“Deeeerrrrek!” Cora was up, on the balcony of their rented house, calling out to him and waving, smiling at him. “Come have breakfast with me!”_

_Though he still had a lot of unanswered questions, Derek was feeling better about what he’d learn the day before. He smiled and waved back to Cora, and made his way up from the beach._  
TBC


	5. Someone to watch over you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has so much back story. Some of it is AU, of course, some of reflects real questions and observations I have about canon back story. Once again, it is completely AU after 3A, with absolutely nothing of 3B.

Derek, Stiles and the Sheriff clean up together. Stiles finishes emptying the dishwasher, Derek reloads, and John washes the lasagna pan and the salad bowl in the sink. It’s all extremely domestic and feels remarkably ordinary.

Though Stiles is too thin, the fact that his lacrosse training is paying dividends aplenty is evident in the shape of his ass, rather difficult not to notice as he bends over repeatedly as he takes things out of the dishwasher and puts them away.

As Derek loads in the dirty dishes, he makes sure to bend from the knees and not from the waist, for ergonomic reasons of course (not from being self-conscious after being unable to avoid ogling Stiles ass). Stiles is busy making decaf coffee, not even looking his way anyway. Stiles doctors all three of their cups, apparently as aware of Derek coffee preference as he is of his own father’s.

They take their cups to the living room, the sheriff reclining in his lazy-boy while Derek and Stiles sit on each ends of the couch, turned slightly towards each other.

“You never did get to finish telling me about your trip,” remarks Stiles.

It makes Derek smile inside because Stiles really cares. “The coast was really beautiful,” he says, “but the highlight, truthfully, was getting to spend all that time with Cora.”

“Yeah. She seems like she would be fun to hang out with, in a non life-threatening situation. Of course, I have yet to confirm that,” says Stiles, smiling.

Derek acknowledges the truth of that, raising his eyebrows and shrugging philosophically. He goes on. “We talked. A lot. About our past. It was… cathartic.”

Cora says he is monosyllabic out of fear of rejection. Stiles knows him, as much as anyone outside of Cora does, and evidently still manages to like him. Yet, that’s as effusive as Derek can get. His eyes meet warm brown ones, filled with appreciation.

Stiles seems to get _how much_ Derek is saying with these few words, and understand _exactly_ what he means. 

Acceptance. Understanding. Affection. Pack. Stiles, Stiles, Stiles… 

Cora jokes that when Derek lets it, compared to own reticent self, his facial expression can be positively verbose. So he lets some of what he feels for Stiles show, and is rewarded with an answering smile that’s full of warmth and a significant increase in Stiles’ heart rate.

“We spent six weeks with the pack where Cora went after… the fire. Nina’s pack,” he adds, for the sheriff’s benefit.

“Who’s Nina?” asks Stiles, weirded out that his dad and Derek both know someone he doesn’t.

“Ah... Nina Sheffield.” says John, fondly. “She was Derek’s aunt but she was also your mom’s best friend. They’d been roommates in college.” The sheriff smiles. “Thick as thieves. Nina blond and fair, your mom dark, their heads always together, plotting, laughing… She was from Oregon originally. Your mom visited Nina’s family plenty of times while they were in school, and after. Nina had been here a couple of times, after we got married.” He chuckles. “Together, they were a menace. Nina got married up there, but her husband, as it happened, was from Beacon Hills. They might not have moved back, but your mom was here, so Nina was all for it.”

Stiles looks nonplussed, and it occurs to Derek that the sheriff might not speak about his wife so openly very often.

John shrugs a little regretfully. “Nina was eight years older than Peter, and I was ten years older than your mom, so it’s not like we did a lot of couple things or anything. But Claudia and Nina, they were really close. Even more so once Nina got pregnant and had her boy.”

“Wait! Wait… You mean _Mom_ ’s best friend was married to _Derek’s uncle Peter_ Peter?” asks Stiles, disbelieving.

“Peter… really loved her,” says Derek. “Jake was thirteen months old when...”

“Oh, god…” says Stiles. “That’s just…”

Yeah, thinks Derek. Peter had plenty of reasons for wanting Kate Argent and her accomplices dead. Derek’s not ready to explain that Peter may feel he had cause for what he did Laura also. He will, though. Stiles ought to know Peter had not been the cold-blooded monster they had all believed him to be, even if he was not completely in his right mind at the time.

“Kate Argent was one of our suspects when we treated the fire as an arson,” says the sheriff as if his thoughts have followed the same path as Derek’s. “She had been working at your father’s firm for only a few weeks, using the name Katrina Silver. As if that wasn’t suspicious enough, she knew your brother Michael, too. Hmm… I don’t remember how we figured _that_ out. And she’d conveniently left for Europe the evening of the fire. All circumstantial, but...”

The sheriff shrugs. “We were all shocked when the fire marshal could find no physical evidence pointing at arson. Several of the windows were broken inward, but the couple of joggers who had been first on site and had called 911 said they’d thrown rocks to break the windows, and screamed for the people in the house to get out. Nothing explained why your family had been trapped inside. It was eventually ruled an accidental fire, and the theory was that everyone in your family just… completely panicked. We had to stop the investigation. You kids had gone away already, to join your sister Cora in Oregon, was what we thought, so that was that.”

John looks at Derek apologetically. “Even knowing what I know now, I’m not sure we could have done anything differently without exposing what you are. Kate Argent was a fanatical psychopath. I don’t condone Peter’s actions, but in this particular case, I don’t see how else she could have paid for her crimes and there was always the possibility she might do it again.”

“She had done it before,” says Derek, “Twice that I know of. You’re right that she might have done it again since.”

“She had?” asks Stiles.

Derek isn’t entirely sure how, or how much Stiles knows about him and Kate, but he knows he does.

“Yes. She had seduced information out of a thirty-five year old Alpha before, and out of an older woman who was her pack’s second. After that, getting the information she needed out of a seventeen year-old kid must have seemed like child’s play.”

“What do you mean?” asks the sheriff, frowning.

“She pulled in at a gas station when I was filling up. She flirted with me, asked me to check her oil. I was flattered,” Derek explains. “She was gorgeous, older, very forward. We ended up having sex in the back of her SUV. By the time she supposedly found out I wasn’t legal, she said she was _“too in love with me to do the right thing”_. I never thought twice about giving her the information she needed to murder my family.”

“I’m sorry she did this to you, son,” said John. “I can only imagine how devastating it must have been for a kid your age to have been taken advantage of in that way. It would have been easy for you to blame yourself since kids already tend to internalize that kind of tragedy anyway. Knowing it was her usual MO must have helped. How did you find that out?”

Derek had accepted, at least intellectually, that he was not to blame for the fire, but the sheriff’s words still feel like a balm on a deep wound. 

“Bruno, Nina’s brother, had his own investigation done at the time. When Cora told me, it gave me a different perspective.”

The sheriff nods. Stiles unfolds one of his legs and press his foot to Derek’s knee before pulling it back, acknowledging the fact that he realizes how recent that revelation actually is, how glad he is Derek no longer blames himself for his family’s tragedy. It’s obvious from his rueful smile that _he_ never did. Then Stiles yawns hugely. He looks exhausted.

Derek wants to suggest he go to bed, but it’s barely 8:00. He can imagine how well that would go over…

“Do you boys want to watch Spartacus? I’m up the end of the fist season,” says the sheriff.

“Sorry, dad. I know it’s lame, but I’m really tired. I think I’ll go to bed,” said Stiles, surprising Derek.

His father gives him a worried look. “You think you can sleep?”

“Pretty sure, yeah. I’ll take Camus’ _The Stranger_ to bed. We have to read it for English lit. That should put me right out.”

His father chuckles. “Is that your opinion of French XXth century literature?”

“I’m just telling it like it is,” says Stiles. “booooring.”

“I think I’ll go for a run,” says Derek.

“Really, you two?” comments John, teasingly. “Culture and exercise when you could watch sex and violence? Youth today. It just ain’t what it used to be… Get me a beer from the fridge on you way, will you?”

“The sex only gets good after Nasir shows up,” says Stiles with a impish grin handing his dad a longneck. Knowing him for a couple of years, Derek has been pretty sure that Stiles finds both men and women attractive. Stiles obviously has not made a secret of it to his dad. 

Both Derek and Stiles go up the stairs. “I’m gonna take a quick shower,” says Stiles, going to the bath. “See you in the morning.”

Derek nods and goes to his room to change. The sheriff waves him off when he crosses the living room and he goes out in the dusk. The Stilinskis live on the edge of their development, their backyard abutting the preserve, in a house that must have stretched the budget of the newlyweds, but probably had been meant to be their first and last house. There is an access to the preserve a few doors down and that’s where Derek goes in. He wishes Cora was there with him, or better yet, a whole pack.

The few times they have run together, though usually that has not been for the fun of it, Stiles has held his own, thanks to lacrosse, though of course he could not have kept up with wolfed out weres. It would be nice to run with him again.

Cora is right. Though Scott never joined Derek’s pack, Stiles has _always_ been pack, and still is. Derek is very comfortable at the Stilinskis. The scent of Stiles makes it feel like home. 

He only runs for about an hour, and notices the light is still on in Stiles room when he gets back. Perhaps Stiles has fallen asleep reading, as he predicted. Or he feels unsettled by the dark, even with his dad in the house. John is still watching gladiators spilling blood when Derek walks in, but he pauses his tivo.

“I called in to work,” he says. “I’m taking the day off tomorrow. I want to talk to your uncle.”

Derek is really glad to hear it. He acknowledges the sheriff with a nod and John goes back to his show. Upstairs, Derek goes to his room to undress. There are two folded towels on the bed, well used and stiff from drying on the line instead of in the drier.

He makes his way to the bath in his underwear, and showers in the glass-enclosed tub. The water pressure is surprisingly good, and without kids in the house, the hot water has been set high enough he is not concerned about running out. Stiles' regard for his werewolf friends extends to the products he uses. His shampoo and body wash are unscented.

As Derek comes out of the shower, he also takes notes of the unscented crystal deodorant on the shelf, and he notices that the towels, though obviously clean are scent free as well. After drying himself, he puts on cotton sleep pants and a white undershirt. Cora accuses him of showing off when he wears wife beaters, and why the fuck not? He works out hard enough. But though he certainly hopes Stiles appreciates his physique, that is not the level at which he wants to relate to him at the moment.

He decides to peek into Stiles room and put away his book and turn off the light if need be. But when he opens the door, Stiles looks up from his book and smiles. Derek is about to apologize and retreat when Stiles says: “Hey. Come in for a minute.” He moves to the center of the bed in a wordless invitation for Derek to sit on it.

“ _The Stranger_ not as soporific as you thought?”

“It is weirdly compelling, actually. But I just turned the light back on a little while ago. I have nightmares, now, and if I don’t distract myself I fall right back in them.”

“About last spring?”

“No. They’re not… concrete. Nothing bad happens. Actually, nothing happens. I’m just somewhere, my room, the woods, or some empty place, and I’m scared shitless. Just a feeling of absolute terror, with no explanation. I used to be awaken by panic attacks, but Peter suggested a way to learn to wake myself up before it gets to that, and it works. Afterwards, I have to stay up for a while though.” Stiles flicks his hand, as if he is done talking about it, and apparently he is, since he next asks, “Good run?”

“The woods smell right.”

“Yeah,” answer Stiles, smiling. He gets it. He yawns.

Derek takes a chance. “I was going to read a while. I could…” He gestures to the bed. “I can wake you if your heart rate goes up.”

“Really?” 

Derek shrugs nonchalantly. “Whether I read here or in my room, what’s the difference?”

Stiles looks both eager and embarrassed. “Yeah. OK, if you’re sure it’s no bother…”

Derek looks at him, to see his reaction to his next words. “We’re pack, Stiles. You’d do the same for me.”

“We are?”

“You were part of the Hale pack even before I was the Alpha.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows in question.

“Peter needed a pack. He wanted a foot soldier, he bit Scott. He wanted a strategist, he bit Lydia. He didn’t ask. He just took.”

Stiles nods.

“But you… He offered you the bite.”

“Yeah. After he tried to kill me. Twice.”

“He was not exactly sane, was he. But why did he _offer_ you the bite instead of just biting you? It was because he saw you as a pack member. Hales have _never_ forced their human members to become werewolves. We have always left the choice to them. You said no. He respected your choice.”

“So I was in your pack all along.”

“We are both members of the Hale pack, yeah… “

“But you’re not in Scott’s pack.”

“No.”

“Can someone be in two packs?”

“…No.”

“Scott is my best friend.”

“Yes, he is. But whom would you trust to keep you safe as you sleep? Cora and I, or Aiden and Isaac?” 

“Duh. So, yep. Hale pack, all the way. Cool.”

“I’ll get my book.”

“’K.”

When he comes back with book and pillow, Stiles has already put down his book and snuggled in his comforter on the wall side of the bed. Derek turns off the light and settles in to read.

“How can you see?” mumbles Stiles.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you knew. I’m a werewolf.”

“Oh, haha.“

“There’s plenty of moonlight, tonight. I can see just fine.”

“Stupid supernatural creature.”

“Dumb human.”

“So unfair.” 

“Go to sleep.”

“You’re not the boss of me.” 

Derek snorts. Stiles falls asleep.

TBC


	6. On the road, part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These 'on the road' chapters are hard to write, because they are pivotal to the story, but have no Derek/Stiles interaction, and well, that's what we all want, isn't it?  
> Also, they are made of lengthy monologues that I am always afraid are too tedious to read. Ugh.
> 
> Conzieu, when I sent this one, told me to cut the second half off, and I see her point: It does not advance the plot. It has nothing to do with Derek and Stiles. It changes NOTHING in the actual story. It is WHOLLY unnecessary.
> 
> I agree. Totally. But. DOGGIES!!! So of course, I left it in. You can skip it: I labelled it "Interlude" so you'd know where it starts, and it goes all the way to the end of the chapter. It really does nothing for this story. Sorry.

_In Big Sur, they did not talk about the past again. Derek put up with the spa treatments and the massages (actually enjoying both a lot more than he had ever expected) and they went for long walks on the beach, and a couple of runs at night._

_They continued up the coast, staying one night in Monterey, one night in Santa Cruz, and again a few days in the Ritz-Carlton at Half Moon bay._

_Derek spoke a little of the hopes he had had for the pack he had formed, of what he had been looking for._

_“”Were you always alone with Laura?” Cora asked. “She never tried to built a pack?”_

_“No. She never did. We never talked about it. We lived like… Humans, really.”_

_“Didn’t you feel lonely?”_

_“I had Laura.”_

_But that made him think. As soon as he had become the Alpha, he had built a pack for himself, one with three betas, because that really is the smallest possible pack configuration (he had not counted on Scott or on Jackson really), and it would have felt unnatural _not_ to live with a pack… Yet, he and Laura had always been alone._

_“She was your Alpha. Doesn’t an Alpha owe his or her Betas the comfort of a pack? How did you ever feel safe enough to relax, strong enough to open yourself up to the outside world, make human friends without a pack?” Cora asked, curious._

_Derek realized he had_ never _felt truly safe, never had felt he could make friends with anyone while he was alone with Laura. He had not given it any thought before, but it was true that without a pack to rely on, he had been left essentially without support and friendship, his only relationship the one he had with his sister. Without a pack, they had been completely co-dependant, isolated, incomplete. He had never even realized how he had yearned for more, and suddenly understood the urgency he felt to create his own pack as soon as he had the chance, giving his choices of pack-mates less thought than he really owed to have done and using less than perfect methods of recruitment._

_The more he thought about it, the more Laura’s behavior seemed strange, irrational, even. It was unfair to second-guess her after the facts, but he wished he understood better the reasons for her choices and actions._

_They were staying in a small bed and breakfast near Crescent city, near the river and hidden in the majestic redwood when Cora, taking a break from their hike, took up the story she had left unfinished days ago._

_“I know how much you loved Laura, Derek, how close you two were after the fire. But there are things I need to share with you, regardless of that.” She looked uncertain._

_“I’ve come to term with the fact that Laura was really young, Cora, and fallible. For years, I put her on a pedestal and never questioned what she did. I followed her blindly, and that’s as much my fault as it was hers. It is time for me to know what happened back then. Everything that happened. I know she that wasn’t perfect,”_

_“I only heard some of this recently, of course,” said Cora. “Back then, I was a little girl trying to overcome the grief, trying to adjust to a new life.” Cora was quiet for a moment. Derek could not even imagine what it had been like for an eight year old. She took a deep breath._

_“Anyway. Uncle Bruno, right after the fire, tried to talk Laura into having Peter transported to the Sheffield house. The three of us could have taken turns at his side, along with members of Uncle Bruno’s own pack whom Peter knew and loved, helping him heal, anchoring him in his recovery, while someone else took care of the funereal arrangements. Even though he stressed that for Peter, time was of the essence, Laura said she wanted to deal with the funerals herself, that you’d all come up right after.”_

_She turned to Derek. “You have to remember that Uncle Bruno and Uncle Kaleb had lost Nina, their little sister, as well as their baby nephew Jake in the fire. It touched them too. So, without telling her, Uncle Bruno send Tobias, who wasn’t his second yet, to figure out _what_ had happened in Beacon Hills. Tobias had quit the FBI when he’d move to Oregon to be with Uncle Kaleb, but was still working for the bureau then, doing profiling. It didn’t take him long to figure out what had happened because he had a pretty good idea where to look._

_“Kate Argent was a rogue hunter from the Argent family. She was smart, blond, beautiful, and completely psychotic. She had been in Beacon Hills for weeks. She’d orchestrated Dad’s personal assistant Maureen’s car accident and had infiltrated Dad’s office, working as a temp. But that wasn’t all. She’d also had an affair with someone in our pack._

_“They figured her lover was Michael because she’d been in Chicago a few months before, and had even audited a class at Loyola University. She would have gotten information about the house security out of him. The day of the fire, she ensured everyone was home, and covered up her scent by wearing his clothes as she encircled the walls with Mountain Ash. She’d also gained access to the emergency tunnels and blocked those escape ways with mountain ash as well. Then she and a couple accomplices shot arrows with some kind of chemical accelerant through the windows, finishing the deed with a few flaming arrows.” Cora had spoke fast, wanting to get the details of the fire over with._

_She took a shaky breath. “Tobias reported his findings to Uncle Bruno, and they immediately called and told Laura what had happened.”_

_His Uncles had thought it had been Michael? Well, Derek and Michael both took after their father, had the same built, the same colorings. If someone had seen him with Kate, they could have easily thought she was with Michael. Michael had been twenty-one after all, not seventeen: A much more likely match for twenty-eight year old Kate._

_What seventeen year old would actually be stupid enough to believe he could make a twenty-eight year old woman fall in love with him? Cora needed to know the truth. _Derek_ needed for the truth to finally be known._

_“It wasn’t Michael, Cora,” he said, hoping she would draw the obvious conclusion._

_“Oh, I know that, Derek.” She shrugged. “I knew as soon as they told me, and so did Laura. She always knew it wasn’t Michael who had been played by Kate Argent. She knew what had really happened the whole time.”_

_Laura could not have known! She had_ never _said anything! She_ must _have thought it was Michael. “How could Laura possibly have known?” he said, dismissively._

_“Michael had come home for the summer the night before the fire, remember? He was on a semester system? Kate Argent must have waited until he got back to put her plan in motion. She wanted to get all of us…_

_“Well, he had big news, and he wanted to talk to Laura about what was going on and get her moral support before approaching Mom about it. You know how close he and Laura were. It was my turn to close up the chicken coop. Laura always came with me, she knew I was afraid of the dark. Michael came with, so they could have a conversation out of everyone’s hearing. It made me feel special that he would trust me not to spill his secret._

_“He’d met a girl freshman year, named Claire Clinton. They’d been dating for three years. He said she was it for him. He’d spent Christmas break with the family of his best friend from school that year, remember? Well, that was _her family_ , her _black_ family, in Detroit. She’d taken him home to introduce him to her parents. They’d loved him, of course. _

_“Now, it was his turn to bring her home. At dinner the next evening, he was going to ask Mom and Dad to invite her, but more specifically ask Mom, as the Alpha, permission to tell Claire about werewolves. Michael wanted to ask Claire to marry him and hoped for Mom and Dad’s blessing. Michael said he was a little worried Claire might be under the impression that Mom was one of those overbearing mother, since he felt he had to actually ask her permission_ in person _to bring his girlfriend home._

 _“So you see, Derek? Laura knew it wasn’t Michael, because_ he _was in a serious relationship with a black woman, not a new one with a beautiful, older blond. That left only_ you _as her possible victim.”_

_For years Derek had lived with the guilt. For years he had wanted to confess to Laura, but had never found the strength to tell her. And now, it turned out that she had known all along…_

_“The reason Tobias figured it out so quickly is that it was not the first time Kate Argent used that technique. It was her MO. Back east, she’d gotten an Alpha, a grown man, Derek, the head of his pack for_ years, _to give it up to her on a silver platter by fucking information out of him. She’d seduced an older woman, in Baton Rouge, the second of_ her _pack, before as well. You were seventeen. If she could seduce information out of a thirty-five year old Alpha and she was determined, what chance did_ you _have?”_

 _“Our uncles thought it was Michael, who was four years older than you, that she had taken advantage of and they didn’t blame_ him _. They blamed_ Kate Argent _. And so do I, and so did Peter, Derek. You had the right to know this. You had the right to know that you were not the only one she’d tricked, the only one she had seduced information out of, that you_ were not to blame _. But Laura never told you, did she?”_

_“No. No, she never did.” He thought about the guilt he had carried so long, and an overwhelming wave of it unfurled over him. “But I was so stupid, Cora! So fucking naïve! I betrayed our family! How could I have believed for one minute that a woman like Kate…”_

_“Stop it, Derek! She could have made you believe anything! Kate Argent could make_ anyone _believe whatever she wanted them to believe! You were young and in love and you trusted her. You’re an adult, now. Look back! Think about how easy it must have been for her to manipulate you! Look at Allison, and how easy it was for Gerard to manipulate her!”_

_Had he ever been that young, that vulnerable, that foolish? Of course he had. He had forgiven Allison. They all had. If someone had done what Kate did to him to, say… Stiles, to get him to tell her all about the pack, Derek would have killed the bitch, but not blamed Stiles, knowing how much Stiles wanted someone to love him back… As if loving Stiles should be hard. As if, getting to know him, one didn’t learn to see how amazing he was, how…_

_“Derek? Are you all right?” At the thought of anyone hurting Stiles, Derek’s claws had come out. He consciously relaxed his body._

_He had forgiven Allison. He would_ never _have blamed Stiles. Kate had fooled men and women older and much more experienced than himself… He had just been a stupid kid. Kate Argent had been a trained manipulative psychopath. He felt the anger he had carried toward himself all these years shift to its rightful target, the weight of guilt lift from his shoulders. What he had learned today let him look back at what happen in a completely different light._

_But it also raised a painful question._

_Laura had known all along what he had done, had known Kate Argent’s history. She had to have known the crushing guilt he lived with, which made him feel that he should not be allowed to grieve, to get over the tragedy they had both lived through. Why had she chosen to leave him emotionally crippled by his remorse and shame all these years?_

_Perhaps she had thought it would be too much for him if he found out that she knew? Perhaps, despite Kate’s history,_ she _blamed him, and could not talk about it lest it ruin their relationship? His secret guilt had left him fettered, bound to his Alpha sister, completely dependant on her. Perhaps that was what she had needed._

 _He saw the look of compassion in his younger sister’s eyes. She knew she was bringing him relief from years of guilt, but that it was at the price of shattering the image of their older sister in Derek’s mind. She bit her lip and he realized there was yet more. What_ he _needed was to hear all Cora had to reveal, to rip out the band-aid off once and for all. He had to know._

_“I’ll be all right,” he said. “Tell me what else you know.”_

_Cora continued, probably wanting to get all the revelations over with as well. “Laura refused for anyone else to help with the funeral arrangements. The day after she learned what had happen, she called back. She’d had our whole family buried that morning, as soon as the bodies were released, with only you, and her, Sheriff Stilinski and a few of the emergency workers in attendance, without giving anyone else a chance to come pay their respect._

_“She told Uncle Bruno you two had decided to go after Kate, to seek revenge, alone, and she would not relent, despite the fact that it would mean leaving Peter behind without the pack he needed, leaving me behind, without the siblings I needed, despite all of Uncle Bruno and Tobias’ objections and offer of help and support. She talked to me for a few minutes, telling me she loved me, and to be good for Aunt Celia and Uncle Bruno, that you and her were going to find and punish the people who had hurt our pack._

_She texted Uncle Bruno daily for four weeks, her last text stating that you were headed for Redstone, Alabama, and then, nothing. You guys just vanished. Tobias tried to follow the trail she had left in her texts, but he found no trace of you. Though Kate had been rumored to have left the country, the uncles concluded that you and Laura must had caught up to her and that the confrontation had not ended in your favor… That Kate had finished what she had started and that you were gone too.”_

_Derek could no longer make sense of his sister Laura’s actions, or find excuses for them. They had never gone anywhere_ near _Alabama. Instead, they had made their way north, to Washington State, and had then crossed the country on I-90 to the Great Lakes and then I-70 to New York city, stopping as little as possible and paying everything in cash. In New York, they had laid low for a while and eventually had started school, Laura always taking care of everything. She had never told him there had been any other choice for them, any invitation to join their Uncle’s pack and he had never asked. She had known who had massacred her pack and never sought revenge. She had purposely cut them off from everyone, leaving Cora and Peter behind._

_“What about Peter?” he asked._

_“Before leaving Beacon Hills, Laura had had Peter moved to a private facility with excellent long term care. Celia and Kaleb, who had been closest to him, came to visit him with the Sheffield emissary. It was too late. They found only an empty husk of a man, with no sign that the person they had loved remaining and no trace of the powerful wolf he had been. In the completely vegetative state he was in, they could not have taken care of him at the Sheffield house, and there were no facilities in Oregon that could improve upon the one Laura had chosen for him, so there he remained._

_“Through the years, different members of the Sheffield pack visited him occasionally, but though his physical condition stabilized, and than improved slowly, there was no sign he would ever return to consciousness and his diagnosis gave them no hope._

_“After a full lunar year without any claims laid upon me by my own pack, I was declared an orphan, by pack law. I was permanently adopted into the Sheffield pack, and legally adopted by Uncle Bruno and Aunt Celia.”_

_Derek couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for Cora to think she had lost Laura and Derek as well. Even overlooking everything else Laura had done, that alone would be unforgiveable. Derek put his arm around Cora and kissed her temple in a ridiculously insufficient apology. She turned in his arms, and they held each other for a while, in silence. They had both been victimized by their sister’s action. They could choose to let it paralyze them, or they could move forward. Cora had obviously already made her choice, and he owed it to her, and to himself, to leave the past behind and look to the future._

_Too long already had he let his past weight on him, dictate his behavior. He had been given relief. He was not alone anymore. For his younger sister, for himself, he would conquer this, not let it drown him in bitterness. She seemed to feel his resolution. She backed away a little and gave him a small smile._

_“Then to everyone’s astonishment,” she said, “rumors came of activity in the Hale ancestral lands. Tobias investigated, and brought back news of your return, of Laura’s murder and Peter’s disappearance, of you having formed a pack of young, newly turned wolves._

_“I wanted to join you. Though it was a hard decision, Uncle Bruno and Auntie Celia understood. They agreed to emancipate me and let me go to you on my own terms. You know the rest.”_

_“I bet you wish now you had stayed put,” said Derek, wistfully, knowing all that Cora had gone through since she had returned to Beacon Hills._

_“I won’t lie. It didn’t turn out the way I had hoped. But I found you and found Uncle Peter, too. And I met Stiles again, and got to know Lydia. The conditions were not the best, but here we are, together. I would not trade that for anything. I know you needed to get away, Derek. And now, we both need time to heal. But perhaps, in a while, when we’ve both taken deep breaths, we can go back, and try again. Beacon Hills_ is _our home.”_

_They walked back to the bed and breakfast leisurely. It wasn’t a hike anymore, more of a stroll. They held hands and breathed in the pine-scented air, as they both were lost in thought._

_They were nearing their destination when Cora leaned on a tree trunk and asked. “What were you thinking about, the past ten minutes?”_

_“Why do you ask?” Derek had been thinking about Stiles. About Stiles’ hands actually. Stiles had big hands with bitten nails. Derek …liked his hands._

_“Because you were tense for a while, thinking about all we’ve been talking about, but then, you relaxed.”_

_“Hmm…”_

_“Derek? Please tell me?”_

_“The things you have told me… It’s as if a lot of the things that have made me who I am were not really as they seemed. As if I have to reconsider every belief, every feeling. I thought I had to be a certain way because of the past, and you’ve change the past so now… I’m not sure who I am anymore. I’m wondering who I can be. It’s terrifying and exhilarating. Unsettling.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I was thinking… Wishing… When Boyd died, I was overwhelmed with feelings. Torn. As I was when you were ill and I was needed, wanting to stay with you, but having to go… Other times as well…”_

_“What?”_

_“At the worst of times, when I really needed it, there was always his touch. Stiles touch. His hand on my shoulder, on my arm. Just now, I was wishing for what it was that had helped me get through then… And I realized what it was. The touch of Stiles’ hand: strange if you consider he is … I mean, is he even pack?”_

_“Of course Stiles is pack.” She told him how Peter had instinctively treated him as such, even when he himself recognized he was bordering on insanity. “Stiles is Hale pack,” she said definitively._

_“Well, he is in Scott’s pack now,” said Derek, trying to push down the sense of loss he felt at that thought._

_Derek was surprised when Cora snorted and said, “Don’t be so sure… He has been Hale pack for a long time, even when Scott rejected you. Why would he change allegiance now? He is one of us. Where we belong, so does he.”_

_Derek slept well that night. He dreamt of running in the preserve with his mother in her wolf form, his brother Michel, Cora and Stiles. It was a soothing, restful kind of dream. Michael had always been such a good guy, solid, comfortable with being a werewolf in the world of men._

__Interlude __

_The next day, Derek asked Cora if she had any idea what had become of Michael’s girlfriend. She said she had no clue. They stopped in Brookings, Oregon to gas up. They went to the Starbucks, both for coffee and for the free WIFI. Cora’s curiosity had been picked by Derek’s question and she wanted to try to find Claire Clinton._

_Once they used Michael’s name to get into the Alumni directory, it was very easy. She lived in Ann Harbor Michigan, and was an anthropology professor at the university. She was single._

_“I want to talk to her,” said Cora._

_“Why?”_

_“I don’t know. She would have been Michael’s wife, family, pack. Since Laura had the funerals so soon after they released the bodies, she didn’t get to be there. Funerals give you a sense of closure, you know? I’m calling her.”_

_She dialed the number for the University of Michigan Anthropology department._

_“Hi. Could you give me Dr. Clinton’s phone number, please?... Sure you can connect me… Hello, Dr. Clinton, I apologize for calling you at work, but it seemed the easiest way to reach you. My name is Cora Hale… Yes, that’s right, I’m Michael’s little sister. My brother Derek and I… Yes … Well, we were talking about Michael and… Yes, he did tell us about you…” Cora was quiet for a few moments, and Derek, curious as to what Claire Clinton was saying, mentally blocked out the sounds of the Starbucks to listen in on his sister’s conversation._

_“…to get to class, and then I have a meeting with one of my graduate students, and this afternoon I go teach at the jail, in the outreach program. But I’ll be done by 4:00 and I’d love to meet you and Derek. Perhaps we could meet for coffee?”_

_She had a lovely voice, warm and melodic, and though she tried to mask it, Derek could hear how eager she was to meet them. Well, they were on a road trip, so why not? He gestured for Cora to hand him the phone._

_“Dr. Clinton? This is Derek Hale.”_

_“… You sound a lot like Michael.”_

_“Do I?” It made him feel good that it was something else he shared with his brother and father. “Cora and I would love to meet you, but neither today nor tomorrow will work for us. Perhaps Friday?”_

_“Friday would be fine. I only have an afternoon class… Would you like to come to my house in the morning? I… It might be better for me than a coffee shop?”_

_Of course. They would be speaking about the man she had loved, the one she had been going to marry. He could understand why she might want some privacy._

_“Yes, that will be fine. Around 10:00?”_

_“10:00 would be perfect. My address is 7 Harvard Place. It’s next to the University arboretum. You can park in the driveway. I’m really looking forward to meeting you, Derek. I’m sorry, I’ve gotta run. I’m late for class.”_

_“No problem. See you Friday.” He hung up._

_Cora raised an eyebrow at him. “We’re going to Michigan?”_

_“You said you wanted to talk to her.”_

_“On the phone would have sufficed, Derek. I could have called her back! Why didn’t you tell her we were halfway across the country?”_

_He shrugged. “I guess I’m curious too. We’re not far from Eugene. Look up some flights to Detroit.”_

_They booked tickets on a flight through Salt Lake City the next day, and rented a car to get from the Airport to Ann Arbor. They also booked rooms for two nights at a luxury bed and breakfast in Ypsilanti called ‘The Queen’s Residence’, because Derek was really starting to enjoy high thread count cotton sheets and gorgeous breakfast, for which he totally blamed Cora._

_Somehow, it felt like playing hooky, and both he and Cora were in a great mood the entire trip, however annoying being stuck in a plane for six hours was. The weather in Michigan was beautiful and their Bed and Breakfast was truly awesome. That evening, Cora joined him in his four-poster bed to watch “The Princess Bride” together. It had been a family favorite, and they could pretty much recite all the lines along with the characters. Derek, who had not seen it in ten years, appreciated it on a whole different level. He wandered if Stiles had ever seen it._

_They arrived at Dr. Clinton’s house a little early. Her street felt as if it was in the middle of the forest, and her house was very large for a single occupant. It was very nice, painted yellow, with a well-kept garden filled with flowers._

_The woman who opened the door as soon as they rang the bell was truly beautiful. She was not wearing any make up, and her shoulder length hair was all tight curls. She was wearing yoga pants and a peach colored sweatshirt, and she was barefoot. He smile was white and even as she greeted them._

_“Cora? Derek? Come in, come in! I’m Claire.” Her eyes lingered on Derek, who was aware of how much he looked like his brother, though Michael’s eyes had been truly green, not hazel, and he’d always been clean shaven._

_“Hey, how are you with big dogs? My babies are in the library, but they gave me dirty looks when I closed the door.”_

_To her dogs, Claire would be the Alpha. They would be fine with the werewolves as long as it was obvious they were no threat to her._

_“By all mean, set them free,” said Cora._

_There was finesse in relating to dogs: They weren’t wolves, but, then again, neither were werewolves. Both Cora and Derek went down to a crouch as Claire walked to the library door to open it. Two massive Great Danes rushed out, their nails clicking on the white and black-checkered tiles of the entryway._

_They stopped in their tracks, sliding a little, when Derek and Cora’s scent hit them. The bigger of the two dogs, a black male, approached Derek, who was looking down. The dog whined a little and licked Derek’s mouth, expressing that he appreciated but was not fooled by Derek’s submissive stance, and had no intention of picking a fight. Derek stood back up. The dog got on his rear legs and placed his paws on Derek’s shoulders. They were the same height. Derek scratched the dog behind the ears, and the dog wagged his tail._

_The female, slightly smaller, walked playfully to Cora, pushing her with her chest so that Cora had to hug her or fall over. Cora laughed at the demonstrative dog and rubbed her neck._

_“Well, my dogs sure love you. They are usually a bit more standoffish, especially Jordan here,” Claire said, petting the male who had fallen back on all four and was standing by her side. She smiled at her affectionate female dog. “Makie is always a bit of a clown, though…”_

_“They are beautiful,” said Derek._

_“And I can jog anywhere at anytime with them without anyone ever bothering me,” said Claire, smiling. “Let’s have that coffee, shall we?”_

_She took them to a large room where the kitchen area was separated from the rest by an island while two comfy looking loveseat faced each other on either side of a fireplace creating a wonderfully cozy conversation area. The dogs flopped down on the fireplace rug._

_She brought a tray with a carafe of freshly brewed coffee, milk and sugar, and three large University of Michigan mugs. She poured the coffees, added milk and sugar to hers, and settled back into her end of the couch, tucking her feet under herself. Derek doctored his cup and sat next to her. Cora sat on the loveseat across from them._

_Claire said, as if she could wait no longer. “So… How is Michael?”_

_Derek and Cora looked at each other, horrified. Derek’s anger at Laura, which he had tried to get over, surged anew._

_Sadly, there was no easing into this, so Derek just said, “Claire, I am so sorry you were never told, but Michael is gone. He died nine years ago, the day after he returned home from Loyola.”_

_She looked at him in utter confusion, as if what he had said made no sense at all. “What? What did you say?”_

_He put down his cup, delicately removed Claire’s from hers and put it on the coffee table before taking her hand. “Michael arrived home from Loyola in the evening, after dinner. He told Laura, our older sister, and Cora here, that at dinner the next day, he was going to ask our parents permission for you to visit, because he loved you and was planning on asking you to marry him. The next day, in the afternoon, a terrible fire broke out at the house. Everyone there, our whole family, perished in the flames. Laura, Cora and I were at school. Cora was eight at the time, and I didn’t know about you until a few days ago, but we both assumed our sister Laura had let you know what had happened. I am so, so sorry, Claire.”_

_Claire hid her face in her hands and burst into tears. After a few seconds, Derek pulled her to him gently and held her as she cried, her whole body racked with deep sobs. He met Cora’s eyes and saw the anger he felt reflected there and in the tenseness of her jaw. He did not try to take Claire’s pain away, but let her cry as long as she needed, just offering her the quiet comfort of his shoulder to cry on._

_Eventually, she pulled away. She grabbed a napkin from the coffee tray, dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. She took a long shaky breath and said, “I have been so angry at him for so long… I was so mad at him and this whole time… I worried back then that he felt he had to speak to your parents before I came. He told me your family had its own ways of doing things, that he would speak to them at dinner time, the day after he left, because that was when things were discussed, always, in your family. He promised to call me that night after speaking to them. He said he had no doubt I would be invited, that they would be thrilled he had found someone, that they would love me. I made him swear to call even if that wasn’t the case, and he did, laughing, saying there was nothing to worry about.”_

_She closed her eyes on her remembered pain. “But he didn’t call that night. Or the next day, or the next. I thought I knew why. I thought he had been worried about bringing a_ black _girl home to his family, that he had wanted to prepare them, and that they had told him in no uncertain terms that that was not acceptable. That it would never be acceptable. I thought he wasn’t calling because he was trying to convince them to give me a chance, because he loved them and wouldn’t give them up without a fight.”_

 _She smiled a tremulous smile. “We loved each other. I never doubted that, never doubted_ him _. I knew if he had to choose between his beloved family and me, he would choose me. But I felt for him. I knew how close he was to them, how much they meant… After a week, I decided to call him. To tell him I loved him, to let him know I had figured out what was going on, to tell him to come back to me, that perhaps, in time, they would change their mind._

_“He did not pick up, so I left him a message, and another the next day, and each day after that, just telling him I loved him._

_“I went to pick him up from the airport when he was due to return, but he wasn’t there. For the first time, I wondered if perhaps he had chosen is family over me. I was confused and upset, but I went home, knowing he would be in class two days later and that I could talk to him them, remind him of what we meant to each other. Then he did not show up for class, and when I called his phone, his number had been disconnected.”_

_She shook her head. “I tried to go over all the different scenario which could lead him to this. He could have chosen his family over our love and given up on us, and so had decided to take time off because he knew he could not see me and keep his resolution to stay away. Or his family had forced him to transfer, to change his number so as to keep him away from me. Or that what I had thought was unconditional love, the meeting of two soul mates, had actually meant a lot less to him than it had to me, and that faced with his family’s disapproval, he simply had chosen to move on and had taken the steps necessary to do so.“_

_She smiled sadly. “My life would have been easier had I ever been able to convince me that that was the case. But I knew what we had was real. I knew he loved me. I knew eventually his resolve would break or that he would escape his family’s control and come back to me. I never stopped waiting…”_

_Her eyes filled with tears again, which gently rolled down her beautiful face. “When you called… When you called I thought perhaps your parents had died, and he was finally free… That he had either asked you to find out if I was still waiting for him and if I could forgive him or that perhaps you had taken it upon yourself to do so, knowing he still loved me.”_

_She closed her eyes, but the tears didn’t stop coming. “My poor love. I’ve been so angry at him for so long… and he never deserved it. He has been gone, all these years… Oh, how I wish he’d just taken me home! Then we could have left this world together…”_

_“I am so sorry, Claire,” said Cora, softly. There were tears on her face as well. “If I had told someone about you sooner… I just assumed Laura had called you, that you knew what had happened. Michael was right, you know. Our parents would have been thrilled to know he had found someone to share his life with, and they would have loved you. He did not lie, and the color of your skin would not ever have been an issue.”_

_Once again, Claire wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She took a deep breath and asked, “If he was so sure of that, if you are, as well, then why, why did he not just do as I did with my parents at Christmas time, and tell yours, “Mom, Dad, I have been dating this girl for three years and I am crazy about her. I want to bring her home so you can meet her?”_

_Derek and Cora exchanged a look and Cora shrugged, leaving the decision to him. He looked at Claire, her red-rimmed eyes direct, intelligent, confused. She had waited for his brother for nearly ten years, never really doubting his love. He had just brought her the worst news anyone could receive about a loved one. Michael had trusted her enough to want to tell her. Derek felt he owed her the truth._

_“Our family is… We have a family secret, one that is very dangerous to share with others. The fire in which our whole family died was actually arson. It was set because I, unlike Michael, had not followed the rules of asking permission of the head of our family before divulging our family’s secret to an outsider. Asking our mother’s permission would have allowed her, someone not involved emotionally, to look at the situation impartially and make the decision to share the secret or not. And they would all still be alive. Michael was mature enough not to let his feelings get in the way of a very important third party evaluation of his desire to share our secret.”_

_“What are you? …Devil worshipers?” asked Claire, frowning, trying to make sense of what he had said._

_Cora exploded in laughter, and immediately apologized, though she was still chortling. “Sorry. I could totally see how you could think that. It was just… unexpected.”_

_“No. We are not devil worshipers. Some people feel we are much worse than that, and you will not believe me when I tell you what we are, but I can prove it, if you wish.”_

_“Derek, I’m an anthropologist. Believe me, whatever your family’s secret is it cannot be as bad as the things I’m currently imagining. Cannibals? Incestuous? Please, just tell me.”_

_“We are werewolves.”_

_“OK. You were right. I do not believe you. And now seems like an odd time for you to make tasteless jokes… I don’t see…”_

_Derek and Cora exchanged a look, and both of them wolfed out._

_Claire looked at Derek, then looked at Cora. Jordan, the male great dane, got up and wearily approached Derek. Once again, he licked Derek’s mouth, acknowledging his strength to diffuse the situation and try to avoid a fight, while not recognizing his dominance. Derek whined and licked the big dog’s mouth back, reassuring him. The dog moved to Cora’s side of the coffee table and sat on the couch, his front paws on the ground, willing to wait and see, but letting the werewolves know he was a presence to be counted._

_“You are werewolves, and Jordan knew it all along…” Claire said, realizing what she was seeing._

_Derek transformed back. “Yes, he did. So did your bitch.” Makie approached him, whining, her stance submissive, and put her head on his lap, asking to be petted. She was young._

_Claire reasoned out loud. “You are communicating with my dogs at their level. You understand how they think. Canis Lupus. A common link. Packs… Of course. Pack dynamics. Your mother was your Alpha, wasn’t she?”_

_“She was. It was the Alpha’s permission to tell you about us that Michael was seeking. But she was our mom, too. She would have been so excited to meet you. She trusted Michael, she would not have second guessed his decision. And Michael was right when he thought you could handle the knowledge that we exist. Your heart rate is up, but you are nowhere near a state of panic.”_

_“Who did you mistakenly trust?”_

_“My lover. I was seventeen, she was twenty-eight. I knew my mother would disapprove of the relationship, so I hid it. I trusted her with our house security codes, with the lay out of our escape tunnels, and she used that knowledge to kill them all, to kill Michael. I am sorry.”_

_“Please tell me someone has told you before that it was not your fault? There is a reason why it is called statutory rape. Seventeen year olds are not always able to make reasonable decisions when blinded by their hormones.”_

_“…Thank you. You are… I… Still, it stands. I_ am _sorry. For what happened, for your loss, for my sister Laura’s grievous lack of judgment in not letting you know of Michael’s death, for the pain you have suffered all these years and the one we caused you today. Had life been fair, Michael’s love should have made you our sister, the precious member of our family pack, loved, supported, trusted. Instead, it has brought you loneliness and sorrow.”_

_Claire smiled wistfully. “Despite everything, I have never regretted meeting and falling in love with Michael. Knowing that he died loving me, did not, as I thought, betray what we had... It is a gift. Your family secret is safe with me, of course. And I hope that now that we have met, we may become friends. I would like to go and visit Michael’s grave sometimes, if that’s OK.”_

_“Of course. He was buried in Beacon Hills, our home town.”_

_“I never knew that. It wasn’t until he disappeared that I realized how secretive he had been about where he was actually from. His flight came from Sacramento, so I just assumed… But there were no Hales in Sacramento, actually, none in California that I could find.”_

_“Werewolves are… careful. The property is held in trust, the pack was… incorporated, as were our parents’ companies. We try our best to stay off the grid,” explained Cora._

_“That makes sense,” Claire admitted. She frowned. “What brought you to Michigan?”_

_“Uh… “ Cora smiled as she said, “We just arrived yesterday. We wanted to meet you. Actually, we need to get going pretty soon to catch out flight back. I’m really glad we came though. This would not have been a good phone conversation…”_

_Claire smiled at her. “I’m very glad you came as well. She got up and opened her purse, which was on the kitchen island. She came back with two business cards. “I’m not a werewolf. My cards have all my contacts on them. I really hope you stay in touch.”_

_When they left, she was standing at the front door with her two enormous dogs._

_On the drive back to the airport, Cora said, “My wolf really liked those dogs.”_

_Derek smiled. “Mine, too.”_

_He had liked the dogs as a human, as well. The way Jordan stood as tall as him, the way he sat on the couch as if he belonged. Stiles would have loved him. Derek could picture preparing to watch a movie with the two of them. Stiles would include Jordan in the conversation. “No Derek, we’re not watching that. Jordan and I want to see Star Wars, ‘cause Jordan and Chewy are tight, like, brothers from another mother. Amirite?” And Jordan would probably “Woof!”, just to make Stiles happy, because he and Derek would have that in common, wanting to make Stiles happy. And Stiles would laugh and…_

_“We should get great danes, when we’re settled,” said Cora, interrupting his daydream._

_“Yes, we should.”_

_“Stiles would love them. Can you just picture him putting a seat belt on Jordan before they go for a ride in the jeep? The dogs ears flapping in the wind?” She cracked up. “And Stiles looking at the people waiting in the lane next to him at the light like, “What? What are you looking at?”_

_And Derek totally could. Suddenly, he felt a tiny jolt of concern. Though why he should be concerned… “I know you like Stiles, Cora, but… How much do you like Stiles?”_

_She shrugged. “He’s pack, you know? He can be an asshole, but I still like… Oh! Are you asking me if I like, LIKE him?” She chuckled. “No, of course not. Stiles’s yo…a friend. I like him as a friend.”_

_There was a very pregnant pause. So pregnant, it was in labor. Delivering, even._

_“Stiles is ‘mi…’? ‘Mi’ what, Cora?”_

_“I think Stiles likes you. Like, LIKES you. And that you like him too. You guys smell good, together.”_

_Thank god they were pulling in the car rental return area. “Grab the paperwork from the glove compartment, OK? I’ll get the bags.” Derek was out of the car and picking up their overnight bags from the trunk in two seconds. They did not talk about Stiles again on the trip back. Derek thought about him though. The entire time._


	7. Almost on the same page.

It’s 11:00 when Derek puts down his book. Stiles’ breathing is slow and regular, as is his heartbeat. Derek looks at his sleeping face objectively. Of all his features, the only one a person could potentially object to is his nose, upturned with its broad base and narrow bridge. Derek happens to like Stiles nose, so with all its other symmetrical and well proportioned features, to him, Stiles face is perfect.

In daily life, it is amazingly expressive, reflecting each and every one of his emotions, but while Stiles sleep, it is eerily still and beautiful. Stiles showered before bed, but because of the products he uses, his natural scent is unmasked by chemicals. It is earthy, like dry sand and a little spicy, like cumin. From experience, Derek is aware that fear (and Derek wished he did not know this) adds a lemony tinge to that scent. Tiredness adds a sweet note, like maple syrup. Sweaty Stiles’ scent gets spicier, with hints of musk that increase at the end of the day. 

The scent of Stiles arousal (Derek has after all known Stiles since he was sixteen…) is dark musk, crushed roasted cumin, and has always seemed to speak directly to Derek’s instincts and raw emotions. Though he has never paid it heed, it makes him feel possessive, responsive, aggressive and territorial, and always have, even when Stiles was nothing but a thorn in his side. He used to think it was only a result of the over-protectiveness he feels towards Stiles because he is human, and therefore more vulnerable than the others in the pack.

After getting to know him, Derek quickly learned to respect Stiles intelligence, to admire his analytical skills and his brash courage, to count on his sense of fairness and his loyalty. He grew to enjoy his sass and ridiculous wit. Derek figures that it must be around the time when he started cringing at Stiles’ constant self-deprecating jokes that his heart had caught up with his instincts, though in the chaos of their lives, he was unaware of it.

Derek, his book on his chest, leans back again against the pillow he brought from his bed, his hands behind his head.

He started missing Stiles almost as soon as he and Cora left Beacon Hills, and as he got rid of a lot of his emotional fetters, he realized just how deeply and how much. Stiles is, and has for a long time, been Hale pack. Derek was absolutely serious when he told Stiles so. As for Cora’s second assumption… 

She says Stiles is Derek’s mate. His first reaction when she brought it up was to completely dismiss it. A lot of Alphas find mates, but for Betas, it is exquisitely rare. Later he wondered… Stiles was on his mind _all the time_ : When he thought of Beacon Hills, obviously, but also as they travelled. What Stiles would think, what he would say, what he would like, what he would laugh about. Then he started to believe that yes, it might be a possibility and later… hope, more and more fervently that she was right. Now, he knows.

He only had to see Stiles again to confirm it. Stiles is everything he wants, physically, intellectually, emotionally. There is nothing about him he doesn’t find attractive, whether he listens to his rational human side or his instinctive wolf side. And since that hug at the door, he has felt complete in a way that he had not felt since he was a beloved child in his family’s pack. 

If blessed with a true mate, werewolves ever only have one, one individual whom they fully accept, heart, body and soul, man and wolf. In the absence of a mating bond, they may love elsewhere, form relationships, live normal lives, like everyone else. But if they do find a possible mate and initiate a bond, once consumed, it is forever. They give it their all. That’s it for them. Permanently separated from their mate, they will never love again, never desire another sexual partner. 

A mating bond goes both ways though, even when one member of the mating pair is human. The human has to be agreeable for the bond to form, in love and fully committed for it will not take hold. For humans, the perfection of the match is there, but separated permanently from their mate, the bond, from their end, will fade in time. They do not have to be alone forever. 

Derek has been in love with humans before. Twice.

With Paige, he was so young, his wolf mating instincts were yet dormant. He had wanted her to share his nature, but it was because he feared to lose her, nothing else. Bonding was a distant concept. His feelings for her were all human.

With Kate… He was thinking with his dick, and ignoring everything else. When he was with her, his wolf was buried as deep as Derek could get it. He had blamed his wolf-self for the debacle with Paige, his desire for her to know and love all of him, for them to be alike.

For he and Kate to be alike, he took the opposite approach. He decided to be human, to deny his nature, to forget his wolf completely which had made it that much easier for her to betray him.

He had also been a Beta, both times. Now, he may be a Beta again, because he gave up the strength, the power of the Alpha to save Cora, but he is aware of how much of his Alpha nature remains. Cora thinks he recognized a potential mate in Stiles when he was the Alpha and that his wolf cannot forget.

Derek pointed out that he had a relationship with Jennifer _after_ meeting Stiles, which should have been impossible if his wolf saw Stiles as a mate. Cora thinks the attraction, the sex, _everything_ he experienced with Jennifer was magically created, possibly even all illusion. Derek does remember how detached he felt, when he was with her: Like the entire affair was happening outside of himself, as if he was not involved at all. Considering he only has a vague memory of it, and that no feelings whatsoever remain, he believes Cora might be right.

When they were in Oregon, Sophie, Cora’s best friend, hit on him, hard. She might have been a little young, she still was gorgeous. Yet he had no reaction whatever to her outrageous flirting. The overtures of Tobias and Kaleb’s friend Angus (though he too was very hot, with the lean strength and fall coloring that are totally Derek’s type) also left him completely cold. None of the people who approached him during their trip evoked the slightest stir of interest in him, enhancing Cora’s suspicion, making it easier for Derek to believe her.

And now, as he lies next to a sleeping Stiles, as Stiles’ clean scent envelops him, Derek’s heartbeat drums with affection, possessiveness, attraction. He _knows_ it would only take one suggestive look from Stiles, or one breath against his warm skin, or one flirting word from him for Derek to be _very_ ready and willing.

But… _a mating bond goes both ways_. Stiles trusts him, likes him even. He has reacted with arousal to Derek’s physical presence in the past, but Derek knows what he looks like. _A lot_ of people react that way to his looks. More encouragingly though, Stiles no longer reacts that way to _Lydia’s_ presence, and has not dated anyone since Derek left. Perhaps Stiles does have feelings for him…

Still, it could be wishful thinking. A crush might be all it is. It doesn’t mean Stiles could want that deep of an involvement. However much Stiles _feels_ like Derek’s mate, he cannot be unless he loves and wants Derek back in the same, profound way.

Derek rolls again onto his elbow to look at Stiles. His hand hovers over Stiles face for a moment, far enough he barely feels Stiles breath on his skin. He would never, however much he might like to, touch Stiles without Stiles knowledge and consent. 

In his sleep, Stiles takes a deeper breath. Apparently, he has caught Derek’s scent, despite his dull human senses. Once again, Stiles fills his lungs deeply, and a small smile appears on his sleeping face. Finally, though Stiles is still deep asleep, one of his arms flails up and catches Derek’s hand, bringing it, none too softly, against his cheek. Instead of waking, he snuggles deeper into the pillow, pressing Derek’s hand to his skin and sighing happily in his sleep.

Derek smiles. Stiles _is_ pack. Conscious, he admits taking comfort in Derek’s presence. In sleep, Stiles recognizes and enjoys his scent. Unguarded, he seeks and is soothed by his touch. Derek decides to let himself enjoy that touch for just a moment before going back to his room.

Tomorrow, Cora and his uncle will be back. He knows his feelings towards Peter changed after hearing Cora’s side of the story, after learning the truth about what happened, but he is still surprised about how much he is looking forward to seeing him. The idea of his uncle, his sister, Stiles and the sheriff getting together the next day make him feel hopeful in a way he has not felt in… a very long time.

It is hard to extract himself from his contact with Stiles, but he slowly retrieves his hand, amused by the moue of displeasure, which appears on Stiles sleeping face. He gets up, walks out and closes the door behind him. He goes downstairs and rouses John who has fallen asleep in front of the TV. John smiles and stretches and follows him upstairs, turning off lights, as if Derek’s presence under his roof is not unusual. Derek goes to sleep quickly and deeply, feeling both at peace and filled with anticipation.

 

He is amazed that it is the smell of coffee that wakes him up. How has he slept so peacefully in a house not his own, how has he not woken up as soon as someone else stirred that morning? After quick ablutions he goes downstairs and finds both Stiles _and_ his father sitting in the living room, drinking coffee and reading the paper.

“There’s coffee in the carafe,” says the sheriff.

“And cereal on the table,” adds Stiles.

Neither of them seem to feel the need to treat him as a guest which makes Derek feel much more comfortable than if they had. He gets himself coffee, noting from the bag on the counter that this one is “leaded”. It is also beans, which means someone ground it, _and the sound of the coffee grinder did not wake him up._ Unbelievable. The cereal is Grapenuts, and there is also a ziplock bag filled with raisins next to it. He serves himself a large bowl, plain, with non-fat milk, and takes both cup and bowl to the living room, where, like the night before, he shares the couch with Stiles.

Stiles hands him the funny pages, apparently assuming they are what Derek first reads in the paper. Cora reads them first. She says starting the paper with the funnies is a mark of optimism. He wonders if Stiles knows this, and if he does, is rather ridiculously assuming Derek is an optimist, or is trying to influence him into becoming one. Then again, Derek still arbors a vague sense of happy anticipation this morning. Isn’t that what optimism is?

He sits down and starts reading. He finds the cartoons only vaguely amusing and wonders if the fault is with him or the material... He reads them nonetheless before reaching for the real estate section. He and Cora are going to need a place to live. He has no idea how big Peter’s house is, if they would be welcome to stay there long term or even if they would want to and he can’t stay at the Stilinskis forever.

If he cannot live with Stiles, he wants to be close. He could get a house in the neighborhood… Derek stops his thought process. He is getting way ahead of himself. Stiles is pack, yes, but what does it mean? Plus he will be going to college next year, won’t he. As will Cora, perhaps. Derek should go with her, of course. But what if Stiles… Argh. This is ridiculous. He folds the real estate section and puts it down. He is stressing himself about having to choose between following his sister or is packmate (mate?) to college, when he has no idea where he will be sleeping tonight. He needs to relax.

Stiles’ foot taps his knee. Derek looks up at him, and meets worried eyes.

“Are you all right?” Stiles asks.

Derek wonders if he gave any outer signs of his inner turmoil. He doesn’t think so.

“Sure. How did you sleep?” he asks, hoping to redirect the conversation. It works.

Stiles smiles, a genuine, happy expression. “Great. I even had good dreams. I was able to really relax, you know, knowing you were… Anyway, I must have slept nine hours. I feel so much better.”

Derek smiles back, and clearly sees on Stiles face how surprised and pleased he is by it. Derek tries to show the warmth of his feelings toward the younger man in his expression, knowing his verbal communication skills to be just as shit as ever. He thinks he sees that warmth reflected back at him in the amber colored eyes, and feels his heartbeat speed up. He drops his hand onto Stiles bare foot, and squeezes it lightly. He hears Stiles’ heart speed up in response to his touch.

Stiles looks at Derek’s hand on his foot, and then back at Derek, his confusion evident. Because he feels like it, Derek pulls Stiles’ foot onto his lap, and start giving it a gentle massage, as he has done plenty of time for Cora during their trip. He has no idea how Stiles will respond, he’s just following his instincts.

Stiles’ heart is now drumming in his chest, but he doesn’t pull his foot away. Instead, he smiles tentatively and clears his throat. “Hum. That feels nice,” he says softly.

“I was hoping it would,” answers Derek, smiling at him again, and Stiles blushes. Derek hopes it’s because he is imagining what else Derek could do to make him feel good. Stiles has nice feet, long and well formed. His middle toe is a bit longer than the others. “Do you want to go for a run this morning?” he asks casually.

“Didn’t you just run last night?”

“Yes.” Derek moves Stiles foot back to the sofa, bends down and bring the other one to his lap. He starts massaging anew. “And I kept thinking how much nicer it would be if you were there with me.”

Frowning in confusion at what he is not sure is a friendly remark or blatant flirting, Stiles looks towards his father, who is absorbed by the paper, and back to Derek. “Wh… Uh… Really? Why? I mean… how?”

“We’ve never run together just for the fun of it. We’ve never done _anything_ together just for the fun of it. And I’d like to change that, while we can. I have a hard time imagining the peace and quiet is going to last forever, but while it does, I’d like to enjoy it. _With you_.”

“Because we’re pack,” says Stiles, as if there could be no other explanation.

Perhaps if Derek started sucking on his toes Derek would clearly get his point across? Derek almost loses it at the thought, imagining Stiles reaction. He wants to be obvious, yet he is not sure of Stiles feelings. He is not about to jeopardize their friendship by moving too fast.

“Yes. Because we’re pack,” Derek concedes. “and because… I missed you. While I was on my trip with Cora.”

Stiles blushes again, but answers lightly, “Yeah, the Stiles brand of wit is addictive, and how could anyone not miss the tension relieving sarcasm?”

Derek just rolls his eyes in answer. He takes Stiles foot off of his lap and says, “So? A run?”

“Sure. Hey, Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“Derek and I are gonna go for a run.”

“How long of a run?” asks John, putting his paper down.

Stiles looks questioningly at Derek, who says, “Six to eight miles, probably?”

“In the preserve?” asks the sheriff.

“Yeah.”

“Would you mind if I tagged along for a mile or two? My fitness evaluation is in two months, and we have to run three miles under twenty-five minutes. We all have memberships at the YMCA, but it would be nice to run outdoors sometimes. I’m just not that familiar with the trails in the preserve.”

“I can show you a nice three miles loop, if you want, starting at the entrance a couple doors down from here, if you’d like,” Derek offers right away. “Stiles and I can just go on after that. What else do you have to do for your fitness test?”

“A three hundred meters sprint under a minute, a vertical jump of eighteen inches, twenty five push ups in a minute, thirty sit ups in a minute and three pull ups. It’s every three years. It seems to get harder every time, and the requirements won’t go down until I turn fifty…”

“I’d be happy to help you train,” offers Derek. The sheriff looks pretty fit. Since he has a pretty good diet already, those goals should be easily reached.

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that. After all, it looks to me that you may know a thing or two about exercise,” says John, grinning.

Stiles cracks up and Derek smiles at him.

“I minored in exercise physiology in college,” Derek says primly, pretending not to notice he’s being teased about his physique, enjoying seeing the mischievous glint in Stiles eyes again.

It’s a really nice time for a run, sunny and crisp. Derek sets a eight minute mile pace and guides them to a clearing about two miles in. Stiles chats all the way, used to harder runs in Lacrosse training. John is a little red in the face and out of breath, but his heart rate is reasonable and regular. After two months, he will probably be able to do three miles in twenty minutes, not twenty-five. 

After letting him catch his breath, Derek shows him how to run suicides in the clearing, using a small log, a patch of moss and his shirt as markers (he notices Stiles’ smirk as he takes it off, and hears his mumbled, ”Again with the shirtlessness...” though Stiles does seem to like what he sees). They are great for improving cardiovascular endurance and training for a sprint.

“Coach Finstock’s favorites,” comments Stiles. “If he is really pissed off about something, he’ll make us run them ‘till somebody pukes. Thank god Greenberg has a weak stomach…”

John only runs five, and Stiles joins him for the last two, for moral support, and does a couple more alone, pushing himself hard. His acceleration is pretty explosive, and he is fast, really fast. Derek wonders why he is a bench warmer. Perhaps he sucks at ball handling?

They finish the three miles loop, which brings them back at the preserve entrance they used, and John keeps running toward home.

“Thanks, guys, see you later!”

Derek and Stiles continue running, a little faster, on a trail that will bring them to the stream. “Your dad’s in good shape. Those requirements should be a piece of cake,” says Derek. “He has nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, I know. He lost fifteen pounds since he last took the test, because I realized we were eating way too much crap and I got scared he’d have a heart attack and drop dead like Danny’s dad three years ago. I may have gone a little overboard, but… Yeah. Also, the station is smoke free now. Dad never smoked, but a lot of the deputies and employees did. He was getting a lot of it second hand. I’m really glad that’s changed.”

“His heart sounds really good, Stiles. Really healthy and strong.” It does. “His breathing’s good, too. Deep, unencumbered.” Derek might as well alleviate any concern Stiles has on the subject. He has enough stress in his life as it is, without worrying that his dad is about to drop dead.

Stiles is quiet for a few minutes, then says, “Good. …Thanks.”

“Enough talking, let’s run!” says Derek, and, wolfing out, he sprints off at a pace Stiles has no hope to match, laughing when Stiles yells at him, “Show off! Human here, ass hole! If you’re trying to kill me, just rip my throat out, with your teeth!”

Derek slows down, shifts back and runs backwards, watching Stiles coming towards him running all out. His form is good, no flailing there, no lost motion. He too has a strong heart and clear lungs. His pulse is even and strong. As he catches up, Derek turns around again and they continue running at a fast clip, about a five-minute mile. 

Stiles has a runner’s body, tall, lean with long, strong muscles and no extra fat. The whole Lacrosse team runs cross-country in the off-season and it shows. They splash across the stream, jump logs, go up and down the irregular terrain and it hardly slows Stiles down. Derek is really glad they did this because, even though he hates to admit it, he’s always considered Stiles a liability when it came to facing danger, someone who would slow them down, who would need rescue. He needs to revise that opinion.

Why has he never thought to train Stiles when he was training his wolves? Stiles is scarily brave. He went at the gigantic alpha made of both the twins with a simple baseball bat, faced down a kanima to get his phone… and came to harangue Derek in the back of a police car though he was scared shitless, facing down someone he thought was a murderous, insane Alpha werewolf.

Given the right weapon, and the right training, not only would Stiles not be a liability, but he’d be an amazing asset. After all, Allison and Chris are human, and they have proven themselves many times. 

They now only have a half a mile to go, on a well-groomed trail.

“Almost there,” says Derek. “Go for it, push yourself as hard as you can, show me what you got!”

Stiles takes off as if the hounds of hell were after him, and keeps pushing, going faster and faster. He is flying down the trail and doesn’t let up, quite the opposite, in fact. Derek is running hard to keep up with him. After exiting the preserve a full speed, it takes Stiles the whole way to his house to gradually slow down. He passes his driveway and continue walking, breathing hard, walks around a bit, and finally stops, leaning his hands on his knees, getting his breath under control, and grinning at Derek.

“That was fun. Hello, endorphins! I feel amazing!" 

“You’re in great shape. That was impressive.”

“Yeah, except for the fact that you could have caught up with me anytime if you’d tried, passed me by and left me to eat your dust…”

“Not without shifting. I’m serious, Stiles. Take a compliment.”

“But that’s… Hum. Ok. Thanks.”

“Maybe you could ask Chris Argent to train you with a weapon you feel would suit you. I could train you in self-defense and teach some basic hand-to-hand combat. You could kick ass, Stiles.”

“Are you serious?” Stiles looks both excited and doubtful.

Out of Stiles three best friends, one is a werewolf, one a banshee and one a hunter. How could it not have occurred to Derek that Stiles would feel second rate? Outside of research and planning, isn’t it the way Derek himself has always treated him?

“Stiles, even without training, how many times have you saved our asses?” Derek reminds him, because he has. “Hell, how many times have you saved _my_ ass?” Stiles did. Several times. And expressed alarm when Derek headed into danger, and concern when he was hurt or used while others seemed to care little whether he lived or died and even less about what scars remained in the aftermath on his already damaged soul.

“It would… Well, it would be nice not to be a burden, to be honest. So, if you can find the time, yeah, I’d love it if you taught me to hold my own in a fight. And if you think Chris Argent wouldn’t mind…”

“You kept him from being buried alive. He owes you one.”

“I didn’t do it for him…” Stiles remarks.

“Irrelevant. Trust me, it counts.”

“All right.” Stiles stays silent for a few minutes, stretching, thinking. “That was a good run then?” he asks. “I mean for you. You got something out of it?”

“Yes, I did. And I had a good time.”

“So, we could do it again? It’s not a complete waste of your time?” Stiles insists.

“Even without the fact that it is good for me to run while keeping myself completely human, it would be worth it to me, Stiles. Do you think that playing video games with Scott, or watching a film with your dad is a complete waste of your time? Or do you look at it as something positive, regardless of its lack of effect on your stamina, because you enjoy spending time with them?”

Stiles snorts. “I seem to recall that when we hung out together before, it was rather because you were forced to by circumstances, and considering the eyes rolls and the slamming me against walls, it doesn’t seem you enjoyed our time together all that much…”

Fuck. Stiles is only stating the truth. Derek leans on the mailbox, crosses his arms, and looks at his feet. “I did a lot of thinking while I was away and I realized how much I… appreciate you. I was hoping that now that I was back, things might change.” He shrugs, feeling stupid. He has been assuming that because that’s something he wants, Stiles would want it too. “If you are not interested, I understand. I’ll back off and we’ll continue as we were. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable with my uninvited overtures, if you feel they came out of nowhere and find them objectionable. …I suck at, you know, people? My offer to train you still stands, of course, no strings attached.” He stands straight again, and rubs his hands together. “Hey, I’m just going to go in and shower now, and no worries, I’m sure I can relocate to my uncle’s this evening and be out of your hair.”

Well, Derek fucked that up. He can see how he came on way too strong. Seems Cora was wrong after all and that Derek wanted what she sold so badly, he convinced himself something was there that just wasn’t. Stiles has plenty of friends, and Derek should count himself lucky to peripherally be one of them.

He takes the stairs two by two and showers quickly, trying not to let himself get overwhelmed by disappointment. Stiles is pack. That’s still true. Cora and Peter will be here soon. He really hit it off with the sheriff. It’s all good.

He goes back to his room and gets dressed. He’s going to go back downstairs and read the paper, and not act like a kicked puppy. Stiles doesn’t need to feel bad, he didn’t do anything wrong. He ‘s not responsible for Derek’s flights of fancy.

He opens his door, and Stiles is there, his hand up, ready to knock. He’s still all sweaty from his run and he smells so good Derek wants to break something.

Stiles backs away and leans against the wall. He says, “My whole life, until two years ago, I only had one friend. Then, I only got to hang with the cool kids because I was Scottie’s +1. After the shit hit the fan and I did my part as best I could, I thought maybe I earned my spot.” 

He looks into Derek’s eyes, earnestly. “Derek, you have no idea how I… I think you’re extraordinary? You’re here, despite all the crap that was dumped on you. I thought you were never coming back, and I didn’t think you knew anyone cared, except _I did_. But I’m nobody, Derek. Not a wolf, not a banshee, not some bad-ass hunter. Now I find out I’m your packmate and I… I love it. Do you have any idea how much? And it makes sense that you want to help a packmate and I don’t want to raise my hopes up, you know? That you’d want to hang even if it wasn’t for that, because it already means …so much, Derek. Everything, really.” 

He looks away for a second, clears his throat and goes on. “But you do! You want to spend time with me, regardless. You said! And Dude, your friendly overtures do come out of nowhere, but they are so welcome. Like, with a ‘Welcome’ doormat, and tea and biscuits and fluffing the pillows and putting flowers in a vase for them when they come over, they are so welcome. And I’m interested in spending time with you. Interested, yes, absolutely, I am. Never been more interested by anything in my…”

Derek is thrilled, but has to stop Stiles because if he doesn’t, Stiles words will encourage him to do something stupid, and go too far, too fast again. “Stiles.”

“Yeah,” Stiles chortles. “Enough, eh? ‘K. I’ll go shower, now.”

“You do that.” Derek tries not to visualize Stiles in the shower.

“And you’ll still be here, right? With the smiling, and the foot rubs and a plethora of other overture to awesome me?” Stiles is making a joke, but Derek hears real anxiety behind it. Stiles has been hurting. He needs his pack. Derek is pretty sure now, though, that given his choice of packmates, Stiles would choose to be with him, and it feels… good.

He smirks and jokes back, “And the more familiar eye rolls and slamming into walls, which I cannot fathom you never recognized as the proof they are of my profound regard.”

Stiles snorts. “My bad, right?”

Derek’s eyebrows make his point for him.

Stiles smiles at that, and says, “I’m going.”

“I’ll be here.”

They stand there, smiling at each other, and Derek hopes Stiles is even half as happy as he is, because that would already be a hell of a lot of happy. The phone rings, but they don’t care. They’re busy. They could stay there a lot longer but John calls up that “Guys? That was Peter. They’ll be here in fifteen,” and Stiles has to go shower. He turns back before closing the door, still smiling.

Derek didn’t fuck up. He did come on a little strong and out of nowhere, but Stiles likes it. Likes him. Derek’s still smiling too.  
TBC


	8. On the road, part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last of the "On the road" chapters. After that, one more regular one, and the epilogue. :)

_On the road, part 4._

_They reprized their trip up the west coast, continuing to spoil themselves. Cora forced Derek to watch her favorite shows and movies on Netflix, got him to talk about his college years, about graduate school, about possible futures for them. They went out at night, to shoot pool, dance or even, a couple of time, to go to comedy clubs. Derek was amused watching boys trip over themselves trying to impress his gorgeous sister, and enjoyed the attention he received from smitten strangers. He was not interested in hooking up with anyone, but it was fun to turn on the charm and have people respond._

_When they stayed home in the evenings, or while they drove or hiked, Cora reminded him of their lives before the fire, got him to tell her stories about the family, stories she had never heard because she was too young. She got him to laugh. They ate well, rested, worked out, relaxed. Beacon Hills seemed very far away, and Derek felt that he was truly on vacation. He had so needed this. They all had, after everything._

_Stiles, certainly. He would have enjoyed the road trip. He would have probably wanted to stop in some ridiculous places, dragging them to see the world’s biggest ball of twine, or the alleged landing spot of an alien craft in Roswell, or who knows what._

_For their last stop before heading to Burns, they stayed at the Channel House, in Newport, Oregon, in a room called the Cuckoo’s nest. The view was amazing, and they enjoyed one last day on the ocean before heading inland. That night, they took a long walk on the beach. They spoke about Stiles for the first time since coming back from Michigan._

_“You’ve been thinking about him, haven’t you?” asked Cora._

_She didn’t need to tell him whom she was speaking of, because he had, indeed, thought about Stiles. A lot. Just a couple nights before, he had flirted with a very good looking man with a keen mind and a killer smile, and though he had enjoyed his company, when it had been time to take things further, he had demurred, preferring to go back to their hotel room and think about some of the inane things that came out of Stiles mouth when he went off on one of his wild tangent, about the way the eighteen year old moved his hands, about his ridiculous mouth…_

_Derek sighed. There was no point in pretending. Not with her. “Yes. The further we get, the more I think about him, apparently.”_

_“You miss him?”_

_He did. Or he thought he did. Did he actually really know Stiles? “I… It’s difficult to say. Every time I see Stiles, something awful is going on. It’s hard to separate his presence from the constant clusterfuck we’ve lived through this past year. I wish… I kind of wish he were here? He is amazing in a crisis. But I’d like to be with him without it meaning I have to fear from my life.”_

_The setting sun was elongating their shadows on the sand, the evening light golden._

_“Do you blame him for some of it?” Cora wondered._

_“Hell no. I think his being there is the only thing that kept it bearable, truthfully. At least, that’s how it feels, now, in retrospect.” Hum. He had said so without thinking. But it felt right._

_“I think he feels the same way about you, that you are what kept him going, what made it worth keeping going,” she said._

_He looked at her, bewildered. Where on earth did she get that? “Nah… Scott. He is in it for Scott.”_

_“You’re wrong,” she said adamantly. “From what I have gathered, I think if ever Stiles has been angry or disappointed in his best friend, it has been in regards to Scott’s handling of supernatural situations, of Scott’s constant misplacement of blame, of Scott putting his feeling for Allison ahead of everything and everyone else. Scott’s his best friend, and always will be, but Stiles is involved in this because he feels it is the right thing to do …and because you are.”_

_“I really don’t think so. He… yelled at me this last time. He told me exactly what he thought of me and my choices, and what they led to. And he was right.” Derek had let him vent, Stiles only expressing out loud what he had been telling himself._

_“He was scared, and angry, and felt safe lashing out at you in a way he could at no one else, not even Scott. He was terrified for his father, and…” She squeezed his hand. “I think he was jealous.”_

_“You’re crazy!”_

_“Am I? I have seen you two interact. I’ve talked about it with Peter. Stiles had a special place in your pack. He challenged you, mocked you, was not afraid of you, and you listened to him twice as much as you listened to anyone else. I think he wanted more from you, but accepted that you were not emotionally available, that circumstances made it impossible for anything other than what you had to develop, but that still, he was special to you… And then, here comes this woman you barely had time to get to know, and you fall for her in no time, manage to have a relationship with her even with the mayhem going on and it disprove every rationalization he had about why you and he could not be together. You basically said, loud and clear,_ ‘We are not together because I don’t want us to be.’ _You rejected him, pure and simple.”_

_She was right that he had not paid attention to whatever attraction he may have felt for Stiles because it just wasn’t the time to pursue anything like it, not ever giving thought to how he might have felt for the_ underage _boy in the chaos they were facing. Yet he would start a relationship with some woman he hardly knew?_

_“I have no clue what that thing was with Jennifer. It just sort of… happened.” Cora and he had talked about it before, how strange it was that Jennifer had convinced him to play dead, when he knew his pack, his sister, was worried about him and how it really had made no sense._

_“Magic. I think you were compelled. She figured it would be a way to insure your compliance, your loyalty. I am not even sure what you remember actually even happened. You know, the day she supposedly healed you? That’s the day Lydia saw her at the motel, miles away, pushing them all to suicide. The day Stiles and Lydia saved pretty much everyone of them.”_

_Derek had no desire to think about Jennifer. He turned his thoughts back to their original conversation. Stiles had always had a special place in his pack. And Derek felt more relaxed around him than around any of the others. He also found Stiles’ energy attractive, and he had, maybe, enjoyed looking at him of late._

_“He was only sixteen when we met,” he said, remembering how he had then dismissed any thought of dwelling upon what Stiles had looked liked beyond,_ ’Uh. Attractive kid. What’s he doing with that newly turned werewolf?’ _at the time, because he did not look that way at boys barely out of childhood._

_“Yes,” Cora agreed. “He was.”_

_“He was just a kid, Cora.”_

_“Uh uh. Then all hell broke loose, and he was a seventeen year-old who’d been through more than most adults, and now he is eighteen, Derek. Eighteen and more mature than most guys your age.”_

_“…You don’t have to convince me of that. I know.”_

_“And you have been thinking about him a lot.”_

_Derek sighed again. “Evidently.”_

_“And you_ do _miss him.”_

_“I… Yeah. Fine.”_

_“You’re attracted to him.” It was a statement, not a question._

_Stiles was not a kid anymore. The amber eyes. That mouth. The lean strong body. The constant motion. The shit eating grin. The fragility, vulnerability behind the bluster. The resilience, the quiet toughness. The loyalty, the determination…_

_Derek looked at her. She was smiling._

_“What?”_

_“You relax when you think about him. Your face does this… thing, like your smiling inside. And your scent…” She giggled. “You smell like gingersnaps, right out of the oven, warm and sweet.”_

_He hated blushing, and he could tell he was, but he couldn’t help smiling in return. “Shut up.”_

_“He gets a sweet scent too, when he sees you. Well, right before the spicy cumin takes over, but he _is_ a teenage boy… You smell good, together. You smell… happy. Sometimes it’s grass and lime, sometimes freesia and green apple. It always blends beautifully. Like mum and dad’s scents used to, remember?”_

_He did. The subset of their parents’ scents that reflected their mood always sweetened when the other came near, and always smelled great together._

_“Scent harmony,” said Cora. “Mates always have it.”_

_Derek cracked up. “Stiles is not my mate!” The idea was ludicrous. Mates were powerfully attracted to one another, naturally trusted each other, missed each other constantly when they were apart, though and dreamed about each other all the time and…_

_“He’s not,” Derek insisted. “He can’t be. I’m a Beta! He’s a kid. He’s in love with Lydia Martin. I’m not in love… I… I’m not!” Even he could tell he protested too much…_

_“Some Betas have mates,” she said, annoyingly._

_“Hardly ever.”_

_“You were an Alpha. You still kind of feel like an Alpha, to me, like you’re somewhere in between…”_

_She had no way to know that she was right about that. “I’m not,” he denied. “The power is gone.” That much was true._

_“But you were. Alphas find mates more easily. And once a mate, forever a mate.”_

_“I… I don’t think so, Cora.”_

_She shrugged. “OK.”_

_“I really don’t.” God. He needed to shut up._

_“I hear you.”_

_Derek had to literally bite his tongue to stop himself from continuing an argument he couldn’t win._

_~o~_

_In the morning, they had the hotel’s fabulous breakfast before heading out for the six-hour drive to Burns. Once they got there and joined the Sheffield pack, it was amazing. Derek knew full well he could not have handled it if he had not had that healing time alone with Cora. He realized how much he’d changed in just three short weeks, how much she had helped him. Now they were surrounded by the love, affection, boisterousness of a large family pack, and he was able to enjoy it to the fullest._

_The noise, the kids, the playfulness, the freedom of being amongst wolves away from dangers, the affectionate teasing, the fabulous food, the sense of acceptance and belonging. Cora was radiant, fun-loving and silly in a way he had never seen her in Beacon Hills. He felt relaxed, a Beta in a well organized pack, trusted but definitely not in charge. It reminded him of who he was, who he had been, who he had been destined to be._

_The first evening, once all the kids were in bed and everyone else was involved in their evening activities, Derek sat in his uncle Bruno’s office, with Bruno’s wife, his aunt Celia, Bruno’s second, Tobias, and Tobias’ husband, Derek’s uncle Kaleb. The last time he had seen them, he had been a teenager, not yet fully grown in his adult body. Now, he shared their heights and muscular built. Bruno looked very much like Derek’s father had, and with his green eyes, Kaleb reminded Derek very much of his brother Michael._

_Derek was shocked when they apologized to him, for not having intervened more forcefully after the fire, for having left so much control to Laura._

_“I fucked up, son,” said Bruno. “I should have come down myself and collected the four of you, regardless of what Laura said she wanted. She was so much like your mother, and I had always been a bit in awe of Talia. I let that influence me. Laura was only eighteen. She convinced me to let her handle the funeral arrangements, to let the both of you go after Argent. I should have never allowed it. Not a day goes by when I don’t kick myself about it.”_

_Derek nodded, not knowing what to say._

_“A bad decision can have repercussions one would never even imagine. Everything you’ve had to face in the past couple of years goes back to my letting Laura have her way. You have paid the price of my mistake. I am sorry,” Bruno added._

_“There was no way for you to know…”_

_“No. Of course not. Laura’s actions clearly show, in retrospect, that she was not acting rationally. I don’t know what motivated her, and I had no control over it. Just like you had no way of knowing Kate Argent was a psychopath and had no responsibility over what she did. It doesn’t stop me from wishing I had acted differently at the time, as am sure you do.”_

_Cora had obviously talked to Bruno at some point. It was strange to be in the presence of people who had full knowledge of what he had done, and did not blame him for it. They spend the rest of the evening talking about everything that had happened in Beacon Hills since Derek had returned. It was amazing to discuss his decisions, his actions, with three rational adults, one of which knew first hand the responsibility of heading a pack._

_They dissected what had happened, showing him where he had failed to see alternatives that a more experienced Alpha might have chosen, or that he himself might have seen had he not had the outside pressure he was under short his thinking process. He was truly amazed, when all was said and done, to realize that, taking everything in consideration, he had not been the total failure he had thought he was._

_Though they wished Scott McCall well as the new Alpha in Beacon Hills, they were not impressed with Scott’s past actions or his frequent lack of judgment. They also squarely placed the deaths of both Erica and Boyd on Deucalion’s shoulders and thought Scott’s decision to let him loose to be ill-advised dangerous and self-serving._

_“I didn’t agree with him on that,” said Derek, “but I must admit I didn’t voice my concerns. He is the Alpha now. And I felt I had made so many mistakes… My mother thought well of Deucalion once upon a time, so I decided to support Scott’s decision.”_

_“Deucalion is a murderer,” Tobias said. He had once been an FBI profiler. Letting criminals go unpunished did not sit well with him. “Alpha McCall may be a natural Alpha, but he should realize that that does not make him infallible. He thinks of himself as wise and forgiving, but he forgets that since he was not the injured party, it was not his place to forgive. Deucalion should have been put down: for what he did to his original pack, for what he had others do to join his pack, for what he did to your pack members and your sister, and for what he did to you, personally. Actually, McCall demonstrate repeatedly a total lack of concern for psychological injuries inflicted upon you. That does not endear him to me. It seems the boy has a lot to learn.”_

_“He is very close to Dr. Deaton. I’m sure he will get more help from him than I did.”_

_“Deaton might not be the best advisor,” said Kaleb. “He was the Hale pack’s emissary, yet where was he in the aftermath of the fire? Laura did not mention him. Neither did you. Was he even at the funerals? He was of no true help to you as you were trying to find your footing as a reluctant Alpha either. I’m not particularly impressed with the man. It seems to me that boy you mentioned, the one with the spark, was more of an emissary to your pack, more help and support to you than Deaton.”_

_“Stiles. Yes. It’s to his credit that Scott didn’t go feral in the early days. He taught him control when Scott was not interested in learning it from me. He identified an anchor for him. He is very intelligent and deft at research. He was an asset to the pack.”_

_“Well, he will hopefully help McCall through his growing pains,” said Celia, hopefully._

_“I’m sure he will. They are best friends.”_

_“Do you have any idea where Deucalion might be found?” asked Bruno._

_“Sorry, no. Why?”_

_“He kept my adopted daughter imprisoned for three month, torturing her occasionally. He forced my nephew to kill one of his own Betas and tried to murder him on several occasion. Let’s just say that Scott McCall is much more forgiving than I am,” said Bruno._

_“Oh.” Bruno was the powerful Alpha to a powerful pack. Deucalion was now an Omega. The odds were not in his favor._

_“We’ll find him,” said Tobias, unconcerned, and Derek did not doubt him for a second._

_“Anyway,” said Celia, changing the subject without any attempt at finesse. “Full moon in two days! I’m glad you are here for it. The weather forecast calls for a clear, beautiful night, perfect for a full pack run and barbecue. It’s going to be fun!”_

_~o~_

_It was awesome. Thirty two werewolves, including three babes in arms, running, wrestling around, chasing rabbits and deer, playing tag, howling to the brilliant moon, letting their wolves out to play. Derek had not experienced anything like it since the last full moon with his own family. They dragged themselves back in as the moon set, to find an awesome meal laid out by the three humans in the pack. Derek had never seen so much meat. He ate two T-bones and a bunch of lamb chops, and finished by gnawing on barbecued ribs while laughing with Cora, Sophie and his other cousins, acting silly, everyone in an expensive mood._

_They all had a dunk in the lake before going to bed. His body pleasantly tired by the run, sated by the huge meal and refreshed by the crystalline waters of the lake, Derek fell asleep easily and deeply. He dreamt of Stiles and woke up in the morning with a wistful smile on his lips and cum all over his stomach._

_It was easy for both Cora and Derek to fit in the pack. Cora was legally Bruno and Celia’s daughter, and acted like it. She and Sophie were as close as ever, and did whatever it is teenage girls do, which in this case included a lot of babysitting for the many babies and toddlers._

_Derek lent a hand where needed. He spent a lot of time splitting wood for the numerous wood stoves in the big house, in preparation for the cold winter. He mowed the huge lawn, trimmed trees, and helped repaint the house. In the evening, he lent a hand with the clean up and read stories to the younger kids._

_Though he tried not to dwell on it, he thought a lot about how different things would have been had he and Laura lived here with Cora while Peter healed. They would have eventually gone back to Beacon Hills, with Peter as their Alpha, and the Hale house rebuilt. He would have felt angry, instead of guilty, over the murder of his family. He could have gone to Sheriff Stilinski with the general details of what had happened and Kate Argent could have been a wanted fugitive, unable to return to the US, or even perhaps extradited back to the country for murder. He could have finished high school in Beacon Hills, met his sister’s friend Stiles, been there for the boy when he lost his mother._

_Because he eventually admitted to himself that if altering the past had prevented his meeting Stiles, then he would not have wanted to change it._

_~o~_

_After three weeks, his uncles and their spouses met with him and Cora, and offered to make him part of the Sheffield pack and take Cora back into the fold. To his surprise, Cora said they had to think about it, and asked for time for them to discuss it, which was easily granted._

_Derek had not been thinking of going back. Not because he did not want to, but because he was sure she didn’t and was not ready to be away from her again. But Cora said she wanted to return to Beacon Hills. It was their home. She did not want to be in a pack that did not include their uncle. She loved her adoptive parents, but she was a Hale, and the Hales belonged together, and belonged there. She wanted to give it another try._

_They thanked the Alpha and the second of the Sheffield pack for their offer, but respectfully explained how they felt. Their uncles understood, and told them their offer was open ended, that if they changed their minds, the Sheffield pack would always honor their family ties._

_Now that they had spoken of it, Derek was both anxious to leave, concerned about returning to a place where he had felt like such a failure, and worried about what they would find. He wanted Cora safe and was incredibly relieved when, though she thought he was being overprotective, she acceded to his request that he go first, and wait until he was sure they were not stepping into another dangerous situation before she joined him. She Smiled and said, simply, “You gave up being an Alpha to save my life. I would not have you think I don’t value it by risking myself when you ask me not to. I’ll wait.”_

_Derek took his time returning, driving no more than a couple hours a day, stopping two days in the Shasta national forest for the full moon, allowing his wolf self over thirty-six hours of freedom in the depth of its wilderness, far away from tourists and marked trails, the basketball shorts he wore his only concession to civilization._

_Derek took the time he spent traveling to think back on everything he had learned from Cora and his uncles, to internalize the shift in paradigm that knowledge allowed, to repeatedly review his personal history through his new perception. He wanted to anchor his changed self-image as solidly as possible before having it challenged by those who had never given him much credit to begin with. He especially wanted to leave his familiar anger behind, knowing that it was a resolution that would soon be tested._

_Letting go of it had forced him to find a new focus to control his wolf. He had used his love for his sister and their hopes of a better future to give himself the strength he needed. He rolled into Beacon hills fully prepared for the inevitable frustrations and the trials to his new inner equilibrium dealing with old acquaintances represented, starting with meeting with Alpha Scott McCall._


	9. The way it ought to be, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... I was expecting this to be the last chapter, followed by an epilogue, but... it's not.  
> It's yet another chapter filled with backstory and interminable monologues. That's what I should have named this fic... "Backstories and monologues".  
> then I could name chapter 11: Finally, some action!

The way it ought to be

Too keyed up to do anything else, Derek stands by the bay window of the Stilinski’s living room, fingers in the front pocket of his jeans, looking out. Except for his seething anger, he has suppressed his emotions for years. Now that he has let go of that anger and opened himself to his feelings, it’s laughable how overwhelming it is.

He’s in love with stiles, both anxious and excited to see how their relationship will develop. 

He adores his baby sister and awaits her arrival like an eager puppy. 

His feelings for his uncle Peter are complex and contradictory: his worshiped the older boy as a child; they became best friends when he was a teenager; they shared responsibility in the terrible decision that killed Paige; he looked up to Peter again when Peter came back from his banishment married, a great husband, a wonderful father, a responsible second to his mother; he grieved for him when Peter’s body seemed only an empty shell; he hated him for murdering Laura; he feared him and put him down when he was nothing but a beast; he was distrustful of his intentions and angry at his manipulations but relied on Peter when he returned from the dead; he has had to re-evaluate all of Peter’s actions in the recent past with the knowledge he recently acquired and all of it together is confusing as hell.

Derek is aware that one cannot make up ten years of emotional growth in three months, and tries to give himself a break for experiencing an emotional upheaval more suited to a teenager, thanking heaven it is tempered by some maturity and not accentuated by teenage hormones. But when he sees a dark green Lexus 600 hybrid turn into the street, he is pretty sure it is Peter’s, and cannot help his body’s reaction: his heart is drumming, his palms are moist and he has to take deep breaths to calm himself down.

God! Caring is a bitch. 

It helps that both Peter and Cora are laughing as they get out of the car, Peter taking one of two huge bags of Chinese take out from her and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She kisses his cheek on the go, and Peter looks fondly at her. They look like family. His family. When the doorbell rings, Stiles is just coming down the stairs and gets to the door at the same time as his dad. Derek stays where he is, working to appear at ease to the werewolves’ sharper senses. 

Stiles greets the visitors happily. “Peter! Hi! Hey, Cora, gimme, gimme, gimme! I’m starving!” Cora and Stiles head for the kitchen, the mingle smells of the Chinese food wafting deliciously in their wake.

“Peter Hale, long time no see. Come in.” The Sheriff and Peter shake hands, like civilized people, and Peter turns his attention to Derek. Peter looks great. His smile looks genuine, going all the way to his sparkling blue eyes. Derek pulls his hands out of his pockets.

He is not conscious of walking into his uncle’s embrace until strong arms come around his shoulders. Derek’s body stiffens, ill at ease and uncertain, until Peter says, “Derek. I’m so glad you’re back,” his voice thick with emotion.

Peter moves one of his hands to the back of his neck and that is enough for Derek’s body to unlock, for him to accept the affectionate gesture and respond to the hug. He and his uncle are of similar height and similar built, yet as he breathes in his uncle’s familiar scent, he feels strangely safe, his uncle’s hold protective and secure. Derek is overcome by a wave of relief when his senses start singing “home, comfort, safety, pack, Alpha…” Alpha?

“Alpha?” Derek realizes he has said it aloud, his voice soft and tentative. He backs away, his uncle’s hand still on his shoulder, looks at Peter and repeats, with wonder, “We’re a pack again, and you are the Alpha.”

Peter smiles again, the whole-hearted grin that was his when he was Talia’s second, a happily married man and a proud father. His eyes briefly flash red and he confirms, “We are the Hale pack, and we’re where we belong, on the Hale territory.”

“But…” Derek starts, but he is interrupted as Stiles and Cora enter from the kitchen, carrying trays with plates, glasses, and an over abundance of food they put ont the coffee table the Sheriff has been busy clearing. 

“After lunch,” says Peter, squeezing his shoulder.

The doorbell rings again. “I’ve got it!” cries John, immediately followed by, “Come in, Miss Martin.”

“Hello, Sheriff!” Lydia enters the living room just ahead of John, carrying a frosty six pack of Tsingtao. Though he is used to seeing her looking perfectly put together, it seems to Derek that she is particularly beautiful today. Her hair is a cascade of curls, her dress, light green with small floral print, is simple and feminine and flatters her shape and colorings, her make up is enough to emphasize her natural beauty but lighter than the sophisticated visage she sometimes wear. She applied her usual “L’air du temps” very sparsely, and it perfectly complements her natural scent to his werewolf nose.

Then Derek catches the warm admiring glance on his uncle’s face, the gleam of humor in his eyes, and Lydia’s satisfied smile and realizes she has somehow made her point, and won some kind of silent argument with him.

“Miss Martin, did you just bring illegally purchase alcohol to the Sheriff’s home?” asks John, looking pained.

She opens wide innocent eyes. “Of course not. Uh! How did those get there? Well, I’m _much_ too young to drink any, but perhaps you’d like a bottle, Sheriff? I understand it is the perfect complement to Chinese food. Cora, Stiles and I will stick to Perrier, of course…” She bats her eyes at him.

John shakes his head and accepts the bottle, and Stiles cracks up at his father’s easy surrender. It seems they have all decided to postpone any serious talk until after the meal, because the next half hour is only filled with some “Pass the Muchu,” “Hey! Don’t hog the chicken!” and, “Which restaurant is this from? It’s really good!” as well as some light banter. 

Stiles is sitting next to Derek on the couch, and it’s a little tight, since Cora and Lydia are on Derek’s other side, so their thighs, knees and shoulders are touching. Derek steals a cashew from Stiles plate and pops it in his mouth, mostly because he knows they’re one of Stiles’ favorites, but Stiles’ fake outraged “Dude!” is accompanied by a smile. So Derek passes two slices of water chestnut from his plate to Stiles’ in reparation, knowing he loves them, and Stiles bumps shoulders with him before deftly picking them up with his chopsticks and eating them with flourish. Derek smiles at him.

He looks up and meets Cora’s eyes. Her expression is fifty percent thrilled, and fifty percent “I told you so!” and Derek has to hold back a snort. Then he also notices the knowing expression on Peter’s face and raises his eyebrows. Peter grins at him and gets back to his food. Derek feels ridiculously transparent, but at the same time he doesn’t care, because he feels totally relaxed, his wolf side reveling in the sense of “pack, family, Alpha, mate,” which surrounds him.

When there are only empty containers and dirtied plates left on the coffee table, Stiles gets up to clean. Though the entire mess fits on the two trays, carried by Stiles and Cora, Lydia and Derek follow them to the kitchen, “to help out”, leaving the Sheriff alone with Peter.

It takes less than a minute for everything to be unloaded into the dishwasher and the trash, but Stiles gets the leftover strawberry sorbet out of the freezer and gives them all spoons, and they sit around the kitchen table, taking turns digging the stuff directly out of the carton, giving the two older men time to talk.

Unlike Stiles and Lydia, Derek and Cora can perfectly hear the conversation in the next room, however Cora starts talking to Stiles and Lydia about making up the classes she has missed, evidently not listening.

Knowing Peter is aware he and the Sheriff can be heard, and that he doesn’t seem to care, Derek is not too bothered about listening in.

“Thanks for changing your schedule, Sheriff,” says Peter, “I was hoping we’d have a chance to talk.”

“I didn’t do it to accommodate you,” his voice calm but serious. “After the stories I’ve heard, I’m more than a bit concerned about having you in contact with these kids. I usually trust my son’s judgment, and I don’t think Derek would let him near you or any of the others if he thought you were dangerous, but I’d like you to tell me directly why I should trust a man with your past not to do them harm.”

Peter doesn’t answer the Sheriff’s main concern right away. Instead, he remarks, “You trust Derek’s opinion. You trust him with your son’s welfare.” 

That John so clearly does makes Derek feel good, but he is still not quite ready for the Sheriff’s response. 

John _snorts_. “Derek’s only been here for a day, but you’d have to be pretty blind not to notice he is in love with Stiles. He does not strike me as the frivolous type, either. I’m pretty sure he’d stand in front of a speeding train for my son.”

God. Derek really _is_ that transparent.

Peter sounds very pleased when he answers, “Well, you’re right about that. And he has, pretty much, several times… Just like Stiles has risked his life for him.”

“Don’t remind me,” says John, sounding likes he means it. “I heard the stories. I also saw how upset Stiles was when he thought Derek had gone for good. I thought he felt bad because he felt Derek had gotten a rotten deal and thought no one cared. But seeing how much happier he seems now that Derek has come back… I’m pretty sure Stiles returns at least some of Derek’s feelings, and us Stilinski’s aren’t known for being fickle in our affections either.”

Derek looks at Stiles to check his reaction before he remembers Stiles can’t hear what his father is saying. As if he can feel Derek’s gaze, Stiles meets his eyes and smiles at him a little shyly, before he is pulled back into his conversation by something Lydia says. Derek is so busy enjoying the warmth in his chest, he almost misses it when Peter asks.

“You don’t mind?”

“Why would I?” asks John. “Because of the age difference?” Then sounding a bit offended, “Or because they are both male?” Derek _knew_ he really liked John.

“Uh… No. Because Derek is a _werewolf_.”

“So is Scott, a boy I’ve known since he was six! And Lydia Martin is a banshee, whatever that means. But from what I can tell, we’re all just people, Hale, just… people. And there are good people, and bad people. What I’m really wondering is, which one are you?”

Peter is quiet for a moment, then says, “I’d like to think I’m one of the good ones, who happens to have done bad things.” He sighs. “Though I appreciate your open-mindedness, and agree in the general sense, you have to understand that there _are_ differences between humans and werewolves. Trying to pretend otherwise would be… disingenuous.  
“There is a wolf that lives within us, one with a distinct set of instincts that cannot be denied. But we are not simply human-wolf hybrids. We are supernatural creatures, different from both.”

“OK… tell me what that means,” the Sheriff encourages.

Peter is quiet for a moment, probably organizing his thoughts. Then he says, “Well, for example, a wolf becomes the Alpha of its pack because it is the strongest in the pack. A wolf pack territory will change with the availability of preys. In contrast, a werewolf becomes an Alpha when the Alpha sparks magically passes to him or her, and along with it the basic Alpha strength, which will then increase or wane with the strength of his or her pack. Also, he or she will have a bond to the pack’s ancestral territory, physically aware if it is breached or threatened.

“If an Alpha wolf is weakened by age or injury, a stronger wolf replaces it. The old Alpha wolf can submit, leave, or be killed. A beloved werewolf Alpha can lead his or her pack to the end, even if he or she is no longer the strongest in the pack. When he or she dies, the Alpha spark will pass to the pack’s second. An Alpha can choose to pass on the leadership to another werewolf, by suppressing the spark and submitting to that other werewolf, but any werewolf who kills an Alpha inherits that Alpha’s spark.”

“I see. There are some commonalities, but also some essential differences between wolves and werewolves. You are not just wolves in human skins. And I suppose there are also differences just as deep between humans and werewolves human side…”

“Yes. We look human when we choose to, but even in human form, we heal, see, hear, and are able to smell like werewolves. We can call upon some of the superior strength and speed of our werewolf nature without shifting to our werewolf form. Humans have families, as well as groups of friends and acquaintances but their social groups are in a constant state of flux, their loyalties shifting and somewhat temporary. We live in packs, our loyalty immutable, part of our instincts, the Alpha able to force obedience upon pack members. Members of the pack are happier, healthier when they are all together and in the pack’s land.”

Though of course Derek is aware of these dissimilarities, it is interesting to hear them put into words. Though he is concerned John might be more squeamish about he and Stiles now, he is also glad the Sheriff actually knows to expect at least some differences. It will make it easier to explain whe… _if_ he and Stiles forge a mating bond. John, however, does not seem overly impressed.

“OK. So you’ve made your point, and I will keep it in mind. But nothing you have said changes the fact that werewolves are capable of love and as far as what’s going on between Stiles and Derek, that’s all I care about.  
“Now, Hale, since you are aware I conduct interrogations for a living, and that I’m sure you are _not_ under the delusion that I can be easily distracted, I assume this natural history lesson is related to _you_ murdering several people, including _your own niece_?”

Ouch.

“You definitely are Stiles’ father…” says Peter, almost to himself. Derek knows exactly what he means. Even scared shitless, Stiles too always remains undaunted.

“Yes. I’m getting there,” says Peter. “When Talia died, I was her second. Since I survived, the Alpha spark passed to me. I woke up in a hospital, alone, the Alpha power running through me, believing I had lost not only my wife, my son, but my entire pack. I had nothing to live for. In despair, I suppressed the spark and its added strength, suppressed my supernatural healing, and let go of this world: dead, for all intent and purposes.

“Had my pack been by my side, had I had the love and support of Laura, Derek and Cora, I would have healed fully in a matter of weeks, drawing strength and purpose from them. Laura betrayed us all by keeping us apart. Because I had suppressed my Alpha spark, she became the new Hale Alpha. But she did not act like it. She abandoned Cora completely, left me a comatose shell in the hands of human healers, and took Derek away from our pack’s territory, hiding Cora’s survival from him, never providing him with the packmates he needed, letting him wallow in guilt and grief, and letting the people responsible for the loss of our pack go unpunished.

“Had I been truly alone, I believe I would have died. Instead I stayed in an in between world, endlessly tortured by loss and grief, by survivor’s guilt, by loneliness, the faint pack bonds to my nieces and nephew holding me from moving on. My body slowly healed. As my awareness returned, I eventually realized what my survival must mean: others had lived. From a sympathetic nurse, who researched the fire in old newspaper articles, I learned about Laura and Derek. I was filled with grief, rage and pain, frankly… not quite sane. My return to consciousness, the reawakening of my Alpha spark was a drain on Laura’ s power, a weakening of _her_ spark.

“She must have understood what it meant, and came to investigate. She was frustrated when she visited me and was told by my nurse that there were no signs of change in my condition. As I expected, she checked on the Hale pack territory next, assuming what she felt might be its encroachment by another pack. I met her in the woods. I ripped out her throat, and cut her body in half, insuring she would not return. By doing so, I gained her strength, but the hold on my sanity weakened farther, and I went mostly feral. 

“Derek returned, searching for Laura. His first stop was to visit me in the hospital. From his one-sided conversation with an uncle he thought was beyond reach, I realized he had no part in Laura’s betrayal, but I learned the truth about the fire. I set out to get revenge upon the people who had massacred all those I loved. To do so, I sought to increase my pack, my strength, and bit a teenager in the woods. Though he resisted my dominance, Scott McCall associated with Derek, and that was enough. As bad a choice as he had been for a beta, he, luckily, had a friend, closer than a brother, who would do anything to help him, and whom Derek trusted enough to turn to in time of need. That is how Stiles came to be a member of the pack.

Peter chuckled. “Derek hated me for killing Laura. Scott resented me for turning him into a werewolf, and was able, somehow, to resist me (It made no sense at the time, and should have been impossible, but of course, we now know he is a natural Alpha, so no wonder there). Stiles being human, and was free of the absolute compulsion to obey me the Alpha of his pack. His affection for Lydia Martin made me think he would be more compliant were she in the pack as well, and her superior intelligence made her a great candidate. She turned out to be immune to the bite. In desperation, I offered your son the bite directly. He was already, albeit reluctantly, member of the pack, so I could not force it upon him. He refused it.” 

Peter laughed. “Describing it after the fact, the whole thing seems like some grotesque cosmic joke… A natural Alpha in love with a hunter, a Banshee, a human nothing can intimidate. I couldn’t have made worse choices if I’d try… Still, I manage to kill Kate Argent and her flunkies in the end. My pack did what they had to do, putting down their feral Alpha. I wish I’d had a chance to talk to Derek before the end. It might have made it easier on him, to know the truth about his sister… 

“But anyway. I died, and was buried, and the person you would have every reason to keep your son from, the feral werewolf you would be right to fear was no more. My Alpha power, my rag-tag pack, and the Hale territory all passed to Derek, who had _never_ desired the position of Alpha, and had not been raised for the position.”

After a few moments of reflection, the Sheriff comments, “California no longer even has the death penalty, so I suppose that by dying, you would more than have paid for your crimes. The problem, though is that you didn’t _stay_ dead, did you?”

“A surprise, that… Dying was a relief. I had done what I set out to do, revenging myself for Laura’s betrayal and revenging my family for what was done to them. I was ready to go, to face Talia’s judgment for what I had done to Laura, to be with Nina and Jack and the rest of my pack again. I didn’t expect to end up in that nowhere place once again, nor did I expect the brief visits from Lydia Martin, my only company. She had no clue what she was, or what was happening to her, and neither did I. She had no memories of her visits to my purgatory when she’d wake up or when she’d come again. It could have gone on forever, as she slowly lost her mind, but I had time on my hands, and a pretty good grasp on the supernatural, and she _is_ frighteningly intelligent.

“I didn’t want to stay in limbo forever, and she did not want to go insane. Together, we figured out a way for me to communicate with her and influence her actions when she was not with me, and finally a way for her to pull me back to her side so our bond would stop pulling her to mine. The entire experience was utterly distasteful, believe me, and hinged on abusing my nephew who had certainly been abused enough already. But needs must. Lydia magically pulled me back, and I stole from Derek the strength I needed to anchor myself again to the world of the living.”

“But you did not return as an Alpha.”

“No, though I still carried the spark. Once you possess it, it never leaves you, even if its accompanying power may. But I did not drain enough power from Derek to be the Alpha again. It didn’t feel right. Derek… Derek deserved a chance. He is a good man, had the potential to be a good Alpha. I just wanted to live again.”

“And you haven’t done anything since your… resurrection that I would object to?” asks the Sheriff.

“Let’s be realistic, Sheriff. You are a profoundly ethical man, with a deep sense of justice guided by pure intentions. I am a manipulative werewolf, unburdened by human morality. I am quite sure not a day goes by without my doing _something_ you would probably object to. Let’s just say that I have not taken any _human_ lives, nor taken possession of anything that wasn’t rightfully mine and leave it at that, shall we?” Somehow, that answer makes Derek’s last reservations about his uncle fall away. It is a true answer, sincere, not candy coated to please the Sheriff. Peter is being _honest_.

“And that should be enough? That’s suppose to inspire my confidence?” asks John, a bit of disbelief in his tone.

“Not entirely,” Peter concedes. But this should.” 

Derek realizes Peter must have just flashed his red eyes at the Sheriff since John said: “Ha. You’re an Alpha again.” He sighs, a little frustrated. “But that just means you are more powerful, not that you are more trustworthy!”

Peter answers with conviction. “Perhaps not when it comes to others, but it makes me _infallibly trustworthy_ when it comes to my pack and every one of its members. I am the Hale Alpha, Sheriff. In the preserve is the Hale territory, and here, in this house, is the _entire_ Hale pack. Mine to love and protect at all costs: Derek, my nephew and second; Cora, my beloved niece; Lydia, a banshee with whom I share an indestructible bond; Stiles, my pack’s future emissary and most likely my nephew’s human mate; And, if you were so inclined, yourself, our emissary’s anchor and someone who could be this pack’s moral compass. An unconventional, yet potentially strong, well balanced pack. One which should prove resilient and a positive force and influence in the community.”

“Are you offering to turn me into a werewolf?” asked the Sheriff doubtfully.

“No, not unless you insisted. The change is more difficult the older one gets. The risk of the bite killing you would be twice that of you surviving it successfully. Not the best odds. No. You would be a human pack member, tied to the pack by bonds of affection, mutual protection and unconditional acceptance.”

Derek is amazed by his uncle’s offer, but also pleased. John would be a great packmate. 

“How is that different from the relationship that would eventually develop from close association?” asks John.

“I dare say the only person you feel a truly deep bound to at this point is your son?” Peter guesses.

“You’re right on that, but I don’t see how just choosing to become a member of the Hale pack would change my feelings,” said John.

“I’m sorry. I can’t rationally explain something supernatural in nature. But please seriously consider my offer. If you decide to make a commitment to this pack, you’ll see for yourself. As Stiles father, your influence is limited. As a pack member, your innate sense of right and wrong would be incorporated in the packs’ make up, and you would never have to worry about being left in the dark about what your son ends up involved with.”

Derek is already thinking of ways he might convince John. Everything Peter is saying is true, but it would also make Stiles so happy…

“And I should believe there is nothing in it for you?” asks the Sheriff, wisely. 

Peter laughed. “You are a man of the world, Sheriff. You know better than that. Your presence would bind the pack to me more closely: Stile to me through you, Lydia and Derek to me through Stiles, Cora to me through Derek. The stronger the pack member’s bond to the Alpha, the stronger the pack. And I am sure you are not naive enough to think the pack would not benefit from including the town’s Sheriff’s.”

“But as a human, I would no feel a compulsion to obey you?” John is just as fiercely independent as Stiles.

“Alpha’s rarely use that power, anyway. I believe Derek used it only once, to protect your son from one of his beta. And no, it doesn’t work on humans.” 

“All right. I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you, Sheriff.”

“There was a time when you used to call me John, and I called you Peter, if you remember.”

“Are you suggesting we could do so again?” Peter asks softly.

“Nina and Claudia made us both better men. I can think of no reason not to remember that.”

There was a long pause in the conversation, and then Peter says, his voice even softer, quieter, “I want to be that man again…”

“Then I think there is no reason for us to be at odds, Peter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I'm amazed anyone has stuck with this overly verbose fic this long... If you made it that far, hang in there: there are interesting things happening from here on!


	10. The way it ought to be, part 2

It seems to Derek the private conversation between the Sheriff and Peter has reached a conclusion, and he gets up, saying, “Let’s go back in there…”

The others trust his decision. The spoons go in the dishwasher and the ice cream box in the trash and they go back to the living room. 

Lydia chooses to sit on the arm of Peter’s chair. He looks at her with a smile and a nod. That leaves Derek on the couch, between his sister and Stiles. Peter makes eye contact with each of them and says, “We are the Hale pack.”

A little smile appears on Lydia’s face. Cora grabs Derek’s hand and holds it tight.

Peter’s eyes glow the brilliant Alpha crimson, and he adds, “And I am the Hale Alpha.”

“What the hell!” cries Stiles. Derek feels the teenager’s whole body recoil next to his. He wants to reach out a reassuring hand, but doesn’t, though he is pretty sure Stiles would reach for him in similar circumstances, because Stiles is the bravest person he knows... and Derek isn’t. 

“When did this happen?” asks Stiles tensely.

“When Derek gave up his Alpha powers to save Cora,” answers Peter. There is a small tick in his heartbeat. He is not lying, but not telling the whole truth.

“Oh,” says Stiles, nervously. “Wow. Well, I’d love to say “Good on you, Mate,” but, uh, Peter, last time you were an Alpha, you were all “Grrrr” and teeth and you went on a rampage and…”

He stops because Peter stands up and without explanation, toes off his shoes, remove his shirt and his Jeans. “Uh, Dude?” asks Stiles as Peter walks around the chair for a modicum of modesty and strips off his y-front as well. Then it all makes sense, because in front of their eyes, Peter changes to his Alpha form, and unlike the monster he was before, in front of them is a gorgeous grey wolf with darker markings on his face and white feet, about twice the size of an actual wolf, with a bit of a grin on it’s face.

Cora ‘s hand tighten further on Derek’s, and he hears her whisper, “Just like Mom…” 

Peter changes back, and casually gets dressed again, saying, “The past couple years have been… trying, but the Hale pack is back, in Hale territory, and I have become the Alpha I was always meant to be.”

“OK,” says Stiles, giving him the thumbs up and relaxing a little. “Nice wolfy. Big, HUGE improvement over the slobbering b-movie monster, but, uh… Dude, Beacon Hills already has an Alpha, right? Scott’s the Alpha.” Derek can tell Stiles is being torn by his opposing allegiances, to his best friend and to his pack. 

“He is,” says Peter, smiling at him. “As of three days ago. Of the township itself. And his territory extends to the Beacon Hills greater city limits.”

"What? Why three days?" asks Stiles.

“It includes the preserve?” asks John, at the same time.

“It includes _some_ of the preserve, yes," says Peter, choosing to answer John first. "About a twentieth of its total surface area. The rest of the preserve, which extends over three different counties is, according to official pack reckoning, Pack Hale’s territory. The Hale property itself never has been part of the town, it has always been separately incorporated.”

“But he Hale territory use to include Beacon Hills, didn’t it?” asked Cora, frowning.

“It did. The pack lines have been redrawn, the Hale pack graciously and voluntarily donating part of its ancestral land to the newly formed McCall pack. The donation was ratified by sixteen of the Western States Packs Council: the necessary majority plus one.”

“So that’s what you have been doing! That’s why you’ve been visiting all these other packs,” cries Stiles.

“Yes,” admits Peter. “The many power changes in the Hale territory had to be explained to the Council, and the situation clarified if we wanted them to stay out of our affairs.”

“And is Alpha McCall aware of this?” asks Lydia, pointedly.

“Alpha McCall is not _even_ aware of the existence of the Western States Packs Council. Nor is he aware of the peaceful coexistence pacts that adjacent packs usually sign, nor has he any familial bonds to any existing pack or any historical allies. There are four reasons for which he was granted a territory _at all_. First, he is a Natural Alpha, a True Alpha, which shows him to have the potential to be an exceptional leader and an asset to all werewolves. Second, his pack gave the Hale pack help and support in defeating the plague that was the Alpha Pack. Third, no other packs beside the Hale pack has been asked to give up any land to him, and those packs who had their eyes on Deucalion, Ennis and Kali’s territories can now negotiate amongst themselves how to best divide them, the vultures. Finally, he had a vehement advocate, who is extremely knowledgeable in pack inter-territorial laws and politics and who knew how to proceed to get him a land grant. That would be me.” Peter gives them a shit-eating grin and a slight bow.

“Isn’t Scott under the impression that he is the Alpha of all of the old Hale territory?” asks the Sheriff, who, Derek is pretty sure, already knows the answer.

“He might well be under that impression, but soon to be corrected. Scott has no right to the Hale territory. He, and a lot of others, including all of you, just assumed that with Derek losing his power and Scott gaining his, it was a fait accompli that the territory would pass to him. But that’s just not so…” 

“You let Derek ask Scott for permission to remain in the territory! Why? You gave him the impression it _is_ his!” protests Stiles, incensed. “And this all time you were using his ignorance of werewolf law against him! That’s underhanded and manipulative…”

“Stiles!” says Peter, raising his hand to stop his flow of words. “Stiles. Hear me out. I’m sorry, I know Scott is your friend, but there is more to this than me doing what is right for my pack. Let me explain, OK?”

“But…”

“Please! There is nothing simple about pack and territorial laws. As I said, Scott has no right to the Hale territory, and _not just because I became an Alpha_. Remember; Scott, of his own free will, refused to take any of us Hales on as Betas. He always refused to _join_ the Hale pack, and none of people who were Derek’s pack when he lost his Alpha status has joined his. He has _no legal right_ to the Hale territory. Would I not be an Alpha, the Alpha of another pack would have come and taken Cora, Derek or I as mate, taken the Hale name, and the territory would have passed to him or her and remained intact. Had all the Hales been dead and gone, all the adjacent packs would have made a bid for the Hale territory, regardless of Scott’s existence and status. Scott could have made a bid for it as well, but he is young, his pack is small and disorganized, and he would have lost. He might have been killed, or absorbed into another pack, or, since he never wanted to be anyone’s beta, might have ended up the Alpha of a roaming pack.”

“So," Stiles clarifies, "you are saying that without you obtaining the creation of a McCall pack enclave within the Hale territory, Scott and his pack would have only been allowed to stay in Beacon Hills by your leave, and that, denied permission, he would have had to go, like Derek said he would if Scott did not grant him permission to stay?”

“That’s right. And, just to be clear, since Beacon Hills is now _his_ territory, we did need his permission to be able to be here, within the city,” explains Peter.

Stiles turns to Derek. “Is this true?” he asks. “Did you know any of this?”

“I believe what Peter says, but no, I don’t have any personal knowledge on the matter. I assumed the territory had passed to Scott, just like you did.” Derek shrugs and adds, “I was never meant to be an Alpha, Stiles. When I lost my family, I was just a stupid teenager, into school, basketball and girls, not into pack law and politics. My mother had a second. I had _two_ older siblings. Becoming an Alpha was not even a consideration.” A thought comes to mind. “Deaton knows all this, though. Why he hasn’t said anything to Scott… I’m not sure.” 

“Scott did not show any interest in having us in his pack,” says Cora dismissively. “He hasn’t even tried to contact Peter _in three months_. He never said anything to us before we left, about wanting us to stay, and did not even do us the courtesy of letting us know immediately if we could live in Beacon Hills. It’s true he is not aware of the consequences of not taking us in, of not calling himself the Hale Alpha, of not calling his pack the Hale pack. But that way, he was at least able to make honest decisions, based on his true feelings and not on what he had to gain. He doesn’t see himself as the “Hale” legacy. I’m glad he doesn’t get the Hale territory. He has never shown anything but contempt for Derek. So, I’m sorry, Stiles, but I think he is damn lucky to at least have Beacon Hills.”

“I don’t think Scott feels that way about Derek anymore! I think he respects him, now, looks to him for advice. I’m pretty sure he didn’t know he was disrespectful by making Derek wait for his decision…” 

Derek knows exactly what Stiles actually thought of Scott’s behavior in that regard. He heard him loud and clear, yelling at Scott. But Stiles is a very loyal friend, still trying to give Scott the benefit of the doubt…

“He never wanted to be a werewolf, never acknowledged the bite as a gift,” Derek reminds Stiles, gently. “He rejected the concept of pack, and his loyalty was always to Allison before anyone else, including his mother and ...even you, Stiles. He is a True Alpha, and I think he will become a force for good in years to come, and he may be your best friend, but I don’t think he has earned a claim to our territory greater than our own.” 

He adds, a little bitterly. “While thinking the situation was reversed, he did not think to offer to carve _us_ out a territory. And the fact that he didn’t realize it was insulting to do so doesn’t change the fact that he did take his sweet time granting us leave to stay, though he was always welcome to do so when I was the Alpha.” He shrugs, hoping he has not antagonized Stiles, and just state the truth as he sees it. “Scott takes a lot for granted…”

“He does,” agrees Peter, “and he has done some pretty hurtful things, but well, pot, kettle… I believe he is much more oblivious than malicious…”

Derek loses the thread of the conversation for a moment, reflecting. It had _never_ occurred to Derek when he was the Alpha to kick Scott out of the territory when he refused to join the pack and chose to be an Omega, even when Scott betrayed him, worked against him, openly dismissed him. Derek acknowledges to himself, for the first time, just how much and deeply Scott’s attitude has hurt him, when, on the other hand, all Derek has ever done is try to help him. 

Suddenly, Stiles' hand is squeezing his. He looks up and meets Stiles’ eyes, full of silent apology and worry. He remembers again Stiles anger at Scott on his behalf and realizes that even if he had thought about it, he would never have made Scott leave, because he could never hurt Stiles in that way, or lose Stiles if he chose to go with Scott. Stiles made it all worth it, and his present show of concern erases Derek’s bitterness.

Derek smiles at Stiles reassuringly, and he hears Stiles heartbeat speed up as he blushes a little. Derek turns his hand over and laces their fingers together. Stiles’gaze drops to their hands and comes back again to meet his, and he looks both totally disbelieving and ridiculously pleased. Derek would love to kiss that expression right off his face and change it to one of eager expectation… 

“…which does not add up,” Cora is saying, sharply enough to bring him back to the conversation. “You would have needed power to reactivate your dormant Alpha spark, because you didn’t take enough power from Derek to become an Alpha again when you returned. And it did not pass to you when he lost it that day because it was his power that cured me.” 

The conversation has somehow moved to question Peter as to his Alpha status, and Derek is very curious about that.

Peter smirks. “And yet, here I am, an Alpha again! Go figure.”

“Did you kill that fellow, Deucalion, for the power?” guesses the Sheriff, and that is a pretty good hypothesis.

“Deucalion is alive and well, and he is no longer an Alpha anyway. He’s an Omega.” Peter sighs. “I was really hoping I could skip this explanation… But, oh well. I acquired the power necessary to re-ignite my Alpha spark from a magical feature of the Hale territory. I know how much suffering it has caused you, Stiles, and your friends, but… I received it from the Nemeton.”

“How?” asked Lydia, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “The Nemeton is loaded with power, both light and dark, but it doesn’t just release it, and the power I feel in you is positive, light, life affirming.”

“Let’s just say the Nemeton owed me one. I prevented it from being used again with evil intent and the power was my… reward. It is in the Hale territory, tied to the pack for centuries. A powerful, if dangerous ally…”

“And the temporary drain in its power is what has given us this respite?” theorizes Lydia. “How long will that last?”

“Long enough for us to get settled, to start living as a pack. Long enough for us to consolidate an alliance with Alpha McCall, hopefully… and for a few more things.” 

Peter turns to Stiles. “Scott doesn’t trust me at all, doesn’t fully trust Derek and has apparently not considered it a priority to learn what being an Alpha means. I know it puts you in a difficult position, Stiles, but I think you might be the best one to talk to him about an alliance, to explain the division of territory to him. You are the strongest tie between our packs, and our packs need each other.”

“I’m not sure he will hear me out. He’s not going to be too thrilled with me when he realizes I chose the Hale pack over his…”

“He knows you were in Derek’s pack, even if he wasn’t. He has not asked you to join his pack,” Lydia points out.

“I don’t think he knows he’s suppose to,” says Stiles, defending his friend. “He doesn’t know any of this stuff.”

“And that’s exactly why _I_ am here today,” explains Lydia. “It’s been over three months, Stiles, and Scott has the resources to learn: Deaton, Chris Argent… you. He has not made use of any of it. He has inherited all this power because of his essential good nature, but he hasn’t embraced his leadership.”

Derek now understands the quiet communication that took place between Peter and Lydia when she arrived. Peter must have told her he was meeting his pack, but must have expected her loyalty to be with Scott, and she proved him wrong.

“After all we’ve been through, I expected Scott to grow up, to take charge, to be proactive,” she continues. “But he is not preparing for the next crisis, just assuming we will all rally when it comes, that you and Derek will tell him what to do. As Derek pointed out, he takes it all for granted. He has not once talked to any of us about being a pack. Ethan and Aiden decided to stick with him because they don’t want to be alone out there, but they are still Alphas, still each others pack. Scott knows Isaac worships him, and that Allison loves him. You’re his best friend, he and I known each other since grade school, Peter and Derek and Cora are werewolves, so he just _assumed_ we were his pack, just like he assumed the Hale territory was his. He had not given it any _thought_ until Derek showed up, and then he rejected him.”

She shrugs. “We all hang out and watch movies together, but that’s not what being pack is about, is it. I love Scott, I really do. Allison is my best friend and Aiden and I have this thing going, but I’m a Banshee and I don’t even know what that means. It’s Peter who has been helping me figure it out, not Scott, it’s the Hale pack that can give me what I need and that will take advantage of what I have to offer. 

"But still, we need Scott as an ally, and for that, he needs to get his ass in gear, so someone need to give him a heads up.” She gives Stiles her special ‘I’m-Lydia-Martin-so-I-know-what’s-best-and-you-will-do-as-you’re-told’ fake smile and adds, “And that can only be _you_ , Stiles.”

“Yeah, right! Because nothing says 'I’m your best friend' better than 'You need to learn to be an Alpha and work on your pack (which by the way, I’m not part of), and take care of your territory (which, by the way, is much smaller than you thought).' That ought to be fun, thanks,” says Stiles. He let’s go of Derek’s hand, rubs both his palms on his face and run his fingers through his hair. He is being sarcastic, but his heart rate has ratcheted up and his scent reveals that he is truly worried, that he feels he is betraying his friend. 

“Sometimes being someone’s best friend might mean you have to make him face a few unpleasant truths no one else is bothering to tell him about, son,” says John, calmly. “Listening to everything that has been said, I think he really needs you to be there for him. Scott’s a good leader. He is captain of the Lacrosse team and does great with that. So why isn’t he taking charge? Also, think about it: Would Scott even _want_ the responsibilities of a territory as large as the Hales, when it seems to me he doesn’t even know what these responsibilities are? Does he _know_ how far it extends? He might just be relieved it’s in the hands of someone who knows what he’s doing.”

Stiles gets up and starts pacing. “…I feel like I’m betraying him, though, Dad, not being in his pack, not having told him that I’m not.”

Cora rolls her eyes. “How long have you even known you’ve been in the Hale pack all along? Twelve hours? How long have you known there actually is, again, a Hale pack to be a part of? Two hours? You’re Scott’s best friend. Nothing can change that. It has nothing to do with pack.”

“But he counts on me…”

“He didn’t call you for advice when he had to decide what to do about us, Stiles,” Cora points out. “ _Deaton_ is Scott’s emissary, if he needs guidance. He has Chris Argent if he needs information. You’re Scott’s _friend_. Friendship is what he needs from you, not your skills.” 

“And Cora gives me the perfect segue,” Peter says, grinning. “Thank you, Sweetie. _We_ need your skills, Stiles. We need you to be our emissary.”

Stiles looks at him as if Peter has grown a second head. “What? This is…” He tries to express how crazy it sounds with wild hand gestures, because apparently Peter’s statement was so insane, it broke him and he can no longer _speak_. Finally, he recovers enough to plead, “I don’t know anything about being an emissary! What are you even talking about?”

The doorbell rings, derailing Stiles rant. “What now!” he cries, raising his hands skyward in frustration, walking to get the door. Peter chuckles.

It’s obvious Stiles has no idea who’s on the stoop when, after opening the door, he says, “Uh… Hello. Hmm. Can I help you?”

There is a smile evident in the feminine voice that answers teasingly, “No, Stiles, but I think I can help _you_. I’m Eliza Finley, the emissary of the Merit pack, in Idaho, the pack Susannah Hale was born into.”

“Uh… OK?” says Stiles, obviously confused.

After a beat, the woman adds, “Peter Hale was just visiting our pack. He asked if I might be willing to train his new emissary, a young man with a powerful magical spark. That would be you, dear.” Another beat. “…Stiles? May I perhaps come in?”

“Wha…? Oh, god. Yes, Yes please! I’m sorry!” exclaims Stiles, flustered. “Yes, please come in. We’re… We’re all in the living room, right this way,” he adds, gesturing towards them.

John gets up, shaking his head in despair. “Hello, I’m John Stilinski,” he says, shaking her hand. “This is my home, in which you are most welcome, despite appearances to the contrary. Forgive my wayward son.” He smacks Stiles on the back of the head. “He was badly brought up.”

Eliza Finley burst into melodic laughter. “I doubt that very much,” she says. “and thank you, it’s nice to meet you.”

Peter has also stood to greet her. “Dr. Finley. Thank you so much for coming. Perfect timing!”

“Well, I am an emissary… Timing is kind of one of our things, don’t you know,” she says with a smile. “And I do love to make a good entrance…” She laughs, and she and Peter hug.

She is lovely. Though she is very petite, almost frail, she looks taller than she is, because she has the perfect posture and the grace of a ballerina. She has shoulder length, curly, snow-white hair and bright blue eyes, filled with fun. It is hard for Derek to guess her age, because despite her hair and the crows feet at the corner of her eyes, she projects an air of youthfulness and seems to brim with energy. She is wearing a white knitted top, well-worn jeans and white ballerina shoes. She has several silver bracelets and bangles on each wrists, and silver rings on most of her graceful fingers. Her smile is very warm and bright, showing slightly misaligned teeth that only add to its charm. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” asks John, the perfect host.

“Oh, yes! Please, could I have some water? I’m parched.”

“Perrier?” offers John.

“No, no. Just tap, please, with ice?”

“Sure thing.” John heads for the kitchen.

“Well, let me introduce everyone,” says Peter. “This is Lydia Martin…” 

“Hello, how do you do?” says Lydia, her country club manners coming automatically to the fore. 

“Nice to meet you Lydia.” 

“…my niece Cora Hale…” 

“Hi!” Cora gives her a little wave, a bit awkward, as she can be when she wants someone to like her.

“Cora.” Eliza smiles at her and winks, surprising a smile out of Cora.

“…My nephew Derek Hale…”

Derek is standing, because his mother raised him well and because the small woman inspires instant respect. He nods and tries for a smile.

“Derek. How much like your father you look!”

Derek knows he does, but he still loves hearing it. “You knew my father?” He can’t believe he just said that. She obviously did. Why does he have to be so inept at social interactions?

“Though your mother,” she confirms, “whom I met the few times the Western Packs council actually convene, before it became… obvious how unwise it was for us all to congregate. She was a great Alpha.”

He can tell she means it, that it’s not just empty praise. He nods again, acknowledging the compliment.

“…And you’ve already met Stiles,” Peter concludes.

“Indeed.” She looks at Stiles for a moment, then remarks. “The force is strong with this one”.

Stiles mouth drops open. “Oh, my god! Oh. My. God! Did you just? You did! You actually just quoted Star Wars. Awesome.” He grins and asks, “Are you going to be my Yoda?”

Eliza grins back at him, and says, gravely, “The spark is with you, young Stiles, but you are not an emissary yet…”

Stiles asks, eyes narrowed, “Should I be worried that you are only _actually_ quoting Darth Vader?” 

She burst out laughing. “Sorry, no. It just seem to fit.” She adds, with another smile, in a perfect Yoda voice, “Good egg, I am, and your Yoda, I shall be. Hmmmmmmm.”

Stiles puts both hands over his heart, rolls his eyes back and falls onto his sit on the couch. Chuckling, Eliza sits down in the chair Peter recently occupied, which he has offered to her, and everyone else settle down again as well. This time, Peter takes the middle of the couch, so Derek sits on the couch’s arm next to Stiles.

“You’re nothing like Deaton,” Stiles observes, and Derek is pretty sure he means it as a compliment.

Eliza chortles. “Alan is very zen, isn’t he. And that mysterious air? That all knowing Mona Lisa smile? It suits him. I could never pull it off, myself. I’m _much_ too excitable. He is a great emissary, however. I brainstorm with him frequently. Alan and I work well together. I’m glad he no longer is only an observer but has accepted to be the emissary for a pack again. He seems to think highly of young Alpha McCall.” 

John comes back with a tray full of Perrier, Cokes glasses filled with ice, and Eliza’s water, and sits back in his chair.

Derek is grateful for the distraction it creates as he cannot help but tense at what Eliza Finley just said. Deaton had refused to be _his_ emissary. Apparently he did not think highly enough of _Derek_. He can tell that next to him, Stiles has tensed too. He is not sure if it is on his behalf, or if it is because of the fact that Scott has not bothered to share with Stiles the fact that Deaton is officially his emissary.

While Eliza exchanges a few pleasantries with John and Peter, Lydia grabs a Coke and hands it to Cora, who gives her a questioning look, eyebrows raised. Lydia raises both her hands, showing off her perfectly manicured nails. Cora rolls her eyes but nevertheless pops the can open, and, with flourish, even pours it out into a glass. She hands Lydia the glass with a totally fake smile. Lydia accepts it, returning a smile just as fake. Then they grin at each other. Lydia and Cora might well become close friends in addition to being packmates.

“Stiles,” says Eliza, interrupting Derek’s thoughts, “the Merit pack is large, and my Alpha needs me. I am pleased and honored to have been asked to teach you, but my time here is limited. I need you to tell me if you want this, and if you do, to be fully committed to this task. I am aware you are in your last year of high school, and that friends, extra curricular activities, and preparing for college are usually a senior’s focus outside of the demands of school, but I am afraid you will have to prioritize differently while I am available to you.”

“I’ve only ever done magic once, and it was more of a fluke than anything. I’m not sure…”

Her silver bracelets chime as Eliza waves a graceful hand, sweeping aside his objection. “I see auras, Stiles. It’s part of my gift. Believe me when I say you have more than enough magic to be an outstanding emissary. But do you _want_ it?”

Stiles asks nervously, “Deaton and his sister are both single. I don’t have to give up, uh… You know, like, having sex, or anything, do I? Not that I have!” he quickly adds, glancing at his dad. “Had sex I mean. Nope, not me! Still a V-card holder! No sex! Well, you know, not with someone else, anyway… Oh, god! Can shut up, now, please?” 

John hides his face in his hands, while Derek can tell Cora and Peter are trying hard not to laugh.

“No, Stiles. Neither celibacy not self-denial are requirements, thank god. Just dedication and hard work.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and lets it out, trying to get over his embarrassment enough to think clearly. “If you think I’m capable, then yes, I want it. I’ve already sent applications for early admission to Stanford, Caltech, Berkeley and CSU Chico, and I’m still a bench warmer for Lacrosse. It won’t be hard giving that up. I can run with Dad and Derek to stay in shape, and my social life is pretty much non-existent, so…”

“Good,” she says. “We will start Monday, then, I think.” She stands. “Well, I need to get settled in my lodgings, so I shall leave you all for now. I’m sure I will see all of you very soon. Goodbye everyone. Derek, would you mind walking me to my car?”

Derek is surprised by her request but happy to oblige. He holds the front door open for her. The afternoon is sunny, a light breeze making the early fall heat comfortable. Peter’s Lexus is the only car parked on the street for quite a ways.

“I parked on the next block,” she explains. “It’s a perfect day for a stroll, and I was cooped up in planes all morning.”

They walk in companionable silence, Derek shortening his stride so Eliza can match his pace easily. 

“What are your intentions toward Stiles?” She asks suddenly, without preamble.

Derek realizes they are just far enough away from the house for their conversation to be completely private. Still, he has no idea how she might know that Stiles is his mate, or why she thinks his intention are any of her business.

“I’m sorry?” he asks, rather coolly.

She stops walking and looks up at him with a warm smile. Though he towers over her by at least a foot she is a powerful presence. “It is not gratuitous or prurient curiosity, Derek. Even if I could not see the harmony of your auras, their completing radiance, anyone with a bit of psychology would notice how your bodies are slightly turned toward each other, how you evidently obtain support and solace from each others presence. He obviously is your mate, and he is very much in love with you. It is easy to see he completely underestimates how attractive he is. How quickly and in what direction your relationship develops is therefore in your hands.”

She sighs. “His recent foray into death has left its mark. There is a darkness around is heart, a gate to his soul was left ajar, a potential entry for nefarious forces. Training as an emissary will put Stiles in proximity to such forces, and I will need to proceed with much caution. I will need to take into account whether or not it is not your intention to forge and complete a mating bond with Stiles in the near future.”

“I… Hm. …You think Stiles in love with me,” Derek confirms with trepidation and is instantly mortified to have done so.

Eliza laughs, but it is not mocking, just purely joyful. She reaches and takes Derek’s hand in hers. “Derek, that young man loves you very, very much. As much as you love him. Your auras are resplendent together, breathtaking.”

Derek tries to not get overwhelmed by the warmth in his chest. “I want him as my mate, of course,” he admits, "but he is only barely eighteen. The bond… You know, I’m sure, that it can only be completed if he sees our relationship as a life-time commitment… I was… hoping, obviously, but I…” Derek can’t think anymore, let alone talk, as with each heartbeat his inner voice sings louder and louder, ‘Stiles loves me. Stiles loves me. STILES LOVES ME,’ and as his wolf rejoices, ‘mate, mine, mate, MATE!’ 

But it all suddenly quiets as he processes what Eliza said: _” I will need to take it into account whether or not it is not your intention to forge and complete a mating bond with Stiles in the near future._

“Would his training be impacted negatively if we were mates?” he asks anxiously.

“No! No! Derek! Quite the opposite, actually,” Eliza says, squeezing the hand she is still holding. “Your wolf would guard that open gate, flashing its red eyes at anything that would even dream of approaching. No demon would be foolish enough to dare challenge an Alpha wolf protecting its mate.”

“But I’m not an Alpha anymore,” corrects Derek.

“Not physically, no. You gave the power of the Alpha to save your sister. But spiritually, it has no impact. Once an Alpha, always an Alpha. I’m sure you can feel it.”

Derek’s wolf is preening at the idea of protecting its mate, and Derek’s human side is incredibly relieved that Stiles being an emissary is not an obstacle to bonding with him. Derek savors the knowledge that indeed, though not even all Alphas are so blessed, and though he was only an Alpha for two years, he has a mate, and he has found him. Then he savors the fact that that mate is Stiles. He _knows_ every werewolf lucky enough to have a mate feels that way about him or her, but still… Stiles is beautiful, intelligent, funny, sexy, so fucking perfect. He _is_ the most awesome mate in all the history of mating. 

Derek will be loved, unconditionally, by someone who will never betray him. He will go though life with someone to share it with, who will need him, support him, want him, respect him. And it’s Stiles! For the first time in a very long time, Derek looks forward to the future. But their relationship is in its early stages. How, and how quickly it will get to the moment (and Derek is _really_ looking forward to that moment) when their bond is consumed and sealed should still be an unknown, and Derek would have liked to enjoy every second of anticipation. 

But Stiles needs the bond to be safe in his training. That takes precedent over savoring the possibly meandering path their relationship might take before reaching that perfect moment.

As if she can read his mind, Eliza clarifies, “You know, even with Stiles dedicating every free moment to his training, it will be weeks before we start delving into dangerous areas. There is no need to rush the natural development of your connection. My original inquiry into your intentions was based on my need to know if you were planning, for whatever reason, to not take Stiles as a mate, or if perhaps you meant to delay your mating for years, waiting until he finished college, perhaps, and sowed his wild oats. Your uncle confided he was worried you might put yourself through that agony because you perhaps did not consider yourself worthy of happiness.”

Three months ago, it would have been true, but Derek still feels betrayed and angry his uncle would reveal such a thing to a total stranger. Once again, Eliza seems to know the path his thoughts have taken.

“I am not just an emissary, you see. In his everyday life, Deaton is a veterinarian. I am a psychiatrist. Peter was wise enough to recognize that after the experiences he has been through in the past ten years, he was not without lingering issues, and suffered from the werewolf equivalent to PTSD. He started intensive therapy with me days after his return from the dead, mostly through skype, but also, quite regularly, in person. The werewolves superior ability to heal is not limited to their physical side, you know. We both decided his treatment was complete about six months ago. Then we were able to become friends. I like him very much. He is a fitting heir to your mother’s legacy.” She smiles at him. “As you will be to his, when the time comes, Derek.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are your uncle’s second, are you not? Therefore, you will be the next Hale Alpha, won’t you?”

Derek vehemently shakes his head. “I don’t want to be the Alpha. I am a terrible Alpha! I…”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Eliza let’s go of his hand, apparently needing both of hers to emphasize what she has to say. “You became an Alpha when you were twenty-four years old, reeling from your beloved sister’s death, wholly unprepared for the responsibility, and by murdering the man you thought was your last living relative!

“You were paralyzed by grief and guilt, caught in terrifying circumstances, hunted, facing an abomination, victimized by a twisted emissary, and terrorized by the Alpha pack!

“Perhaps you might consider giving yourself some credit?

“Have you given any thought to how much worse things could have been had it not been for your constant sacrifices? Young Alpha McCall would have died at the hands of Victoria Argent, though he might well have first killed her daughter on his first full moon! Stiles would have died how many times? Cora and Boyd would have torn each other to pieces! The darach would have killed our young banshee! and…”

She stops her tirade, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, lowering her finally still hands to her side. She _has_ mentioned she is excitable… 

“Derek, when you become the Hale Alpha again, you will probably be middle aged. You will have learned what it entails from one of the most knowledgeable Alpha of the Western Pack Council. Your mate will be your pack’s powerful emissary and the members of your pack will have been together for years. You will be seconded by your sister Cora, a most powerful werewolf in her own right. You will be a _wonderful_ Alpha, and I hope I am still alive to be able to laugh at you and tell you that I told you so.”

Derek is stunned by her words, by her view of his disastrous time as the Alpha, and by her vision of the future. He doesn't know what to do with the maelstrom of positive feelings they create in their wake. He actually physically shakes himself, to focus back on the present, on Stiles.

She smiles at him, and starts walking again. “Peter said Stiles has terrible dreams. Those will be much less common and intense if he sleeps near a member of his pack, if he feels safe as he falls asleep.”

“I read in his room last night until he was deeply asleep, and he did not wake up until morning. He said he had slept really well,” says Derek.

“Good, good. Because the Emissary training will take a lot out of him. He will need proper nutrition, regular exercise, but most importantly good, restorative sleep.” She stops next to a bright red Porsche. “Well, that’s my rental. Thank you for walking with me, Derek. I will see you soon, I’m sure. Take good care of my pupil.”

Derek watches the red car until it disappears around a corner. He cannot help but think how much better a teacher Eliza will be to Stiles than Deaton could have been, how much better an emissary to the Hale pack Stiles will be than Deaton could have been, and he doesn’t even feel bad for being petty. He smiles. Pack McCall can have Deaton, pack Hale would pick Stiles any day of the week. He jogs back to the house because, ridiculously, he misses Stiles, he misses his mate…


	11. Home run

Coming back from his discussion with Eliza, Derek catches what seems to be the end of yet another explanation of the supernatural to the Sheriff, as he climbs the steps to the front door. 

“So that’s what being an Emissary means. Hmm. You know, son, since you apparently have magic, and at this point, why should that even surprise me, I think that’s just right up your alley. I think you’re going to be great.” That man’s sanity is amazingly resilient.

“Thanks Dad. I wish I was as confident as you all are.”

Derek knocks and walks in, trying to balance the fact that it’s not his house with the fact that he presently lives there.

“You were a while,” remarks Peter, looking at Derek knowingly.

“She’s an interesting lady,” Derek answers, dodgingly.

“I like her. She’s got style,” declares Lydia, and that is high praise indeed. “But I have been working for weeks with your interior decorator sight unseen, and now that you’re back, I want to see the house. No more excuses!” Lydia adds, firmly.

“He and I agree that you have exquisite tastes, my dear, and that the house looks wonderful,” comments Peter.

“It’s easy when the space is gorgeous and the budget unlimited,” Lydia replies, shrugging, though her little smile shows she is pleased. “ _You know_ I’ve been trying to figure out where the house is. There are only a few of these enormous old mansions in Beacon Hills, and most of them are in my neighborhood but I’ve had no luck.”

“Your neighborhood was built at the turn of the century. This one is older. I wanted a structure of the same vintage as the original Hale house, which was built in 1872. So I bought the Estraven mansion. It’s two years older.”

“Never heard of it. Where is it, downtown?” asks Lydia.

“The Estraven mansion? It’s on the north end of town, within Beacon Hills Community College, between the gym and the cafeteria,” the Sheriff reports. “The Estravens left it and the surrounding land to the city, earmarked for establishing an institution for higher education. The college has grown around the original house. It latest use was as faculty housing. Not exactly a good location…” he adds, surprised.

“Yes,” Peter agrees. “And it was totally wasted where it was. The house is beautiful and enormous, but was completely at odds with the rest of the buildings. I made the college an offer on it they would have been fools to refuse, and had it moved to the Hale property. Now they can build a structure more adapted to their needs, and we have a beautiful home for our pack. Would you like to see it? The landscaping was just finished.”

“Duh!” cries Lydia, getting up, ready to go. 

“I’m going to pass,” says the sheriff. “Not that I’m not curious, but I want to drop by the station, make sure they’re not in too much of a jam. I did cancel my shift a little late…”

“You’re welcome anytime,” says Peter, seriously.

“Thanks.” John smiles at him, then heads up the stairs to put on his uniform.

Stiles sighs. “I think I’ll stay and call Scott. The sooner I talk to him the better.”

“Thank you, Stiles. I know you are not looking forward to it,” Peter acknowledges appreciatively. “Cora, will you ride with me? Lydia and Derek can follow in their cars.”

Derek knows Stiles is nervous, and if it can make it easier on him, he’d be glad to stay, though he is not sure how to offer. He is the last to leave, wondering if he should say something, when Stiles calls out, “Derek?”

He turns around, raising his eyebrows.

“You… Hmm… I’m sure there is a room for you at the new house. I mean obviously. But… You’re coming back, right? To sleep tonight?”

Stiles is trying so hard not to be needy, it’s a little heartbreaking.

“Stiles, unless you or you father ask me to, I’m not moving to the pack’s house until you do, OK? I want to see it, obviously, but I don’t even need to go now if you’d prefer I stay. I can see it anytime.”

“No! No! Please, go. I’d love to go too, truthfully. I think it’s going to be spectacular. I just…”

“Why don’t you call now and see if Scott’s available. If not, you can ride with me, and we can come back together.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.” 

Stiles smiles at him, and dials. The phone is answered immediately. 

“Hey, Stiles! What’s up?”

“You want to hang out tonight? It’s been a while.”

“I get off at six. Want me to get pizza?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“See you! Hey, I’m glad you called. I miss you.”

“Me too, Bro. Me too.”

Derek smiles at Stiles. “So I guess I’ll see you later. I’ll call before I head back, so as not to interrupt, OK?”

“Thanks. See you later.”

Peter has waited patiently for Derek, and surprisingly, considering how eager she is to see the results of her hard work, so has Lydia. Derek starts the Camaro. Leaving Stiles behind is actually making him feel physically uncomfortable. He needs to get a grip.

“Well done, Derek. Stiles needs his pack right now,” says Peter from his car as they drive off.

“Pff.” Derek rolls his eyes, because he knows his uncle is fully aware of how small a hardship staying with Stiles is, since he knows how Derek feels.

Both Peter and Cora chuckle, the annoying jerks. 

~o~

Derek, Lydia, Cora and Peter have a light dinner they prepare in the house’s awesome kitchen. Then Peter makes a call to Chris Argent, deciding he really needs to give the presumably retired hunter a heads up about what’s happening with the Hale pack. He leaves immediately after, and sends a text to Derek letting him know all is well at about 9:00. Derek calls the Stilinskis at 11:00pm, wondering if he should watch another movie with the girls at the new house or if the coast is clear. He is surprised it’s the Sheriff who answers.

“Sheriff Stilinski.”

“Hey, Sheriff. It’s Derek. Is Scott still with Stiles then?”

“Scott? I don’t think he’s been here. Stiles and I had dinner together when I got back, around seven, then we watched some TV. He went up about half an hour ago to read some more Camus. Are you coming home soon?”

_Coming home_. “On my way,” Derek answers, as if he’s not affected at all by the Sheriff so casually making him part of his household.

He hangs up and frowns. What the hell happened with Scott? He tells the girls good night and heads out, admiring once more the amazing job the landscapers did, which now that night has come is illuminated by a few well placed spotlights. It’s so well designed, it makes it look as if the new Hale House has been at this location since it was built.

The mansion itself is simple but elegant. Peter was not joking about it being enormous. It has twelve bedrooms with en suites upstairs, and three baths, a library, an office, a media room, a parlor, a mud room, a huge family room, a state of the art eat in kitchen with a table that can expend to fit fourteen, a beautiful conservatory and several empty rooms which have yet to find their function downstairs.

Lydia and the interior decorator have indeed outdone themselves. The colors are beautiful and perfectly complemented by the many rugs covering the hardwood floors, the gorgeous draperies enhancing the many large windows, and the fabulous art, from classical to whimsical, hanging throughout. The furniture is comfortable and stylish, yet eclectic enough the house looks as if it has housed several generations. The general effect is that of a well loved, cozy and tasteful lived-in home.

It is located about three hundred meters from the old Hale house and connected to it by a meandering path. The only remains of their old home are the cellars and underground rooms, which have been flooded and are now a peaceful geometric pond, with water lilies and a few colorful kois. The path loops around it and shrubbery and small trees have been planted all around. There are a couple of benches slightly back from the path and surrounded by greenery where one could sit and reflect, out of sight. It’s beautiful and peaceful, and a perfect memorial to their family. 

When Derek pulls up to the Stilinskis, the light is on in Stiles room and he is really glad. He walks in to find the sheriff asleep in front of Spartacus. He looks very comfortable and totally relaxed, so Derek just spread the throw that’s folded on the back of the couch over him and turns off the TV. He flicks off the lights on his way upstairs.

Derek hears Stiles turn a page on his way up, so he knows he is still reading. He goes to his room to drops off his jacket, keys and wallet and he grabs “The Left Hand Of Darkness” by Ursula Le Guin, which he is currently reading, and his pillows and knocks lightly on Stiles door.

“Come in!”

Derek walks in and Stiles smiles warmly at him. “You’re back. How’s the house?”

“Gorgeous. You’ll love it. What happened with Scott?”

Stiles closes his book after folding a page in and puts it on the night table.

“He cancelled at the last minute. Allison had just called and asked him to come over. I told him I needed to talk to him about something important, and he said that was exactly what Allison had said too, and,” Stiles makes air quotes with his fingers, “she sounded really serious. I’m sorry, Dude, but…” Stiles shrugs philosophically. “I let him off the hook. There is no point in making him feel bad, you know? So I told him I understood, not to worry about it, and just to come over in the morning. He sounded so happy that I wasn’t upset, it was worth it. He’ll come tomorrow after breakfast.” Stiles yawn a huge yawn… He eyes Derek’s book and pillows and says with a pleased smile, “You’re going to read here till I fall asleep again?”

“I thought I would, yeah.”

“Cool.” Stiles cozies into his blankets and his voice is already sleepy when he says, “G’night, Sourwolf.”

Derek smiles at the old nickname as he turns off the light and gets himself situated. “Good night, Stiles.”

Stiles reaches over and just rests his hand on Derek’s upper arm. Derek could swear he is asleep about three seconds later. Derek feels amazingly content as he opens his book and starts reading.

~o~

An hour later, he reads the last page and closes the book with satisfaction. Le Guin never disappoint. She is definitely one of his favorite authors. Stiles is sleeping peacefully, his breaths quiet and deep. Downstairs the Sheriff is also deeply asleep. Apparently the Stilinski men do not snore.

Derek thinks he does, sometimes, when he falls asleep on his back, but Cora has not complained about it and having shared sleeping quarters with him for three months, he is sure she would have repeatedly if it was obnoxious.

He smiles thinking back to their exploration of the bedrooms at the new house earlier. Only four of them were completely finished, and entering one of those, Cora said, “Oh, my god! I want this room! Can I have this room?”

Peter said, “Of course you can!” and while she was walking around admiring it, he and Lydia smiled at each other. Derek realized Lydia had decorated it specifically with Cora in mind and was pleased to have gotten it right. Derek is surprised, because he would not have guessed his tough as nails, utterly practical younger sister would have liked the romantic, Victorian, pink accented room, or the delicate roses of the bed spread and curtains, or the multiple lacy throw pillows, but she loves it, as well as the claw foot tub and antique sink in the adjacent bath, with it’s pink and white tiles accented by a row of porcelain bows.

He, himself, has put dibs on one of the unfinished rooms. It’s very large, with three floor to ceiling French windows. Its walls are bare, and it has only one piece of furniture in it yet: A king size four-poster bed. The bathroom is modern, with a huge shower with two shower heads, twin sinks, and grey and white tile work. Derek thinks it would be perfect for Stiles and him. Of course, there are eight others to choose from, if Stiles doesn’t like this one. That’s of course assuming they will share a room… If not, Derek still likes it for himself. He likes that it’s a corner room, oriented South-East, which will have a view of the rising sun.

During dinner, Peter described the lengths he has gone to to make sure the house is a true safe heaven for the pack. The firm Peter hired for the remodel is located in Finland, and they sent an entire team from there to do all of the work. Because of the tight schedule he imposed, they worked twelve-hour days with no time off, for the huge bonus Peter forked out. They slept and ate in ATCO mobile units he rented and had zero contact with anyone in Beacon Hills. All the supplies were ordered and delivered ahead of time from a professional supplier in Yuba City. All the deliveries were made on Sunday nights, using the roads across the preserve, away from the town. Even the house was moved at night, by a company from Santa Maria.

This is how he made sure no one would find out about the three secret doors that were added to the house by the simple expedient of moving the back walls of the linen closet upstairs, the kitchen pantry and one of the library’s alcoves three feet forward. Behind the rotating walls, fireman poles drop to a small underground room. In the middle of it’s floor is the blast safe trap door which leads to a bomb shelter. Once closed and sealed, it can only be opened from the inside. 

The bomb shelter was built off site and then installed by Atlas, a company that prides itself in working in complete secrecy. It will essentially function as a panic room. The second access to the shelter leads to an underground tunnel, which exits in a small chapel on the edge of the preserve. 

The Chapel is very quaint, and romantic. It is often rented for weddings and other special occasions, like, for example, the private memorial mass during which four of its floor tiles became an undetectable trap door.

Peter said that was only part of the new house security measures and that he would go into much more details when the whole pack next got together. Derek and Peter are fully aware their protectiveness of the pack and its home verge on paranoia, but they could not care less. They can afford the extravagance, and both want their home to be a safe heaven where they can truly relax.

Derek reflects that, actually, the Stilinski’s home is the place where he has most let down his guard since the fire destroyed his home. Even in New York, in the small apartment he shared with Laura, he was always somewhat weary and on edge. Perhaps it is the fact that he has made peace with his past, or the presence of a lawman whose support he can count on just downstairs, or being surrounded by Stiles’scent of pack and mate. Perhaps all three. He certainly slept deeper last night than he ever does.

It’s probably time for him to go to bed. He gently removes Stiles relaxed hand from his arm and gives himself a minute to enjoy looking at his face in repose. He thinks back to the picture that Eliza painted that afternoon, of him as a successful Alpha, with Stiles, his mate and powerful emissary at his side, surrounded by a strong and happy pack. Looking at Stiles, knowing how intelligent, resilient and loyal he is, recognizing how deeply Derek loves him, how much he wants to be a man Stiles can love back, he is filled with a sense of purpose that has until now been lacking from his life.

How foreign it would have seemed, just three short month ago, to feel so lucky and privileged. 

Derek is just about to leave when Stiles’ heart rate suddenly goes up. His eyes start to move under his lids. He is dreaming. His lips part as his breathing comes faster and his cheeks flush. Derek is about to shake him awake from what he assumes is a nightmare when a sudden movement of Stiles hips lifts the blankets and bring with it the unmistakable pungency of Stiles arousal.

Oh. Not a nightmare then. Quite the opposite. Derek grins and gets up, careful not to wake him. He walks silently to the door. The last thing he wants is to invade Stiles privacy. He has almost made good his escape when Stiles says his name. “Derek...” Shit, Derek woke him after all. He turns back to apologize, but Stiles is still deep asleep and he lets out a very pleased moan. “Mmmm, Derek… yes...”

Derek ducks out of Stiles’ room and enters his, leaning against his close door, his heart racing almost as fast as Stiles’.

Stiles is having a sex dream. Featuring Derek. Derek, who, according to Stiles’ own father, to Cora, to Peter and to a woman who reads auras with amazing accuracy, Stiles is in love with. Derek looks down at his tented sleep pants. Evidently, Derek’s dick is as pleased about this as he is. He takes a second to breathe, leaning his head against the door, attempting to relax. 

He is trying his best to ignore the sounds coming from Stiles’ room, but it’s not easy, especially since Stiles repeatedly calls out his name. He takes off his t-shirt, because he suddenly feels way, way too warm. Hell’s bells! He takes a deep breath _again_ , and picks up the pillows and book he just dropped on the floor, faking normal but unconsciously biting his lower lip.

Then a sudden change in Stiles breathing pattern calls his attention _again_. Dammit! It’s followed by sudden movements, Stiles shifting around, moving bed covers, then the sound of a rhythmic rubbing of… a palm? On sleep pants material? “Derek, oh, fuck…” And Derek realizes that Stiles is now _awake_ , and _pleasuring_ himself, _actively fantasizing about him…_

There is only so much temptation Derek can resist. He leans against the door again, slicks his palm with spit and, pushing down his sleep pants to his ankles, wraps his fist around his hard-on, now listening intently (as Stiles is actually quieter awake than he was asleep, conscious of the presence of a _sleeping_ werewolf across the way). There is no mistaking the sound of a bottle of slick opening, or that of the smooth wet glide of a fist on a cock, or… oh, dear god… Stiles is trying to kill him… the moist suctioning slide of fingers up an ass.

The image it creates in Derek’s mind is fucking sinful. His dick is hard as wood in his hand, leaking enough pre-come to slick his hand and drip some on the floor. He is matching Stiles rhythm, his breathing, loving the sounds he tries vainly to muffle against his pillow. He can tell Stiles is getting close.

“Oh, god… Derek,” a whisper, “oh, fuck! I love you, I love you,” then “Uhgn… umfffuck, Derek, ye… Ahh, ah,…”

Fuck it… Derek pushes his pants off completely and in two seconds, he is in Stiles room, fast enough to catch sight of the last spurt of Stiles’ come landing on his taut belly, to meet Stiles’ eyes as they are still glazed with pleasure, and to cover his parted lips with his mouth, catching Stiles last pleasure sound in his kiss. Without hesitation, Stiles kisses back, and it’s languid, and open and deep and sexy as fuck. Derek looses himself in it, enjoying it to much to care that his possessively growling so low and deep it sound like a purr. 

Abruptly, Stiles pulls back, suddenly embarrassed. “Oh, fuck. You heard me.”

“Yeah,” Derek admits, smiling. “And you called me, so here I am.” He is lying on top of Stiles, his hips between Stiles thighs, the tip of his cock pleasurably touching Stiles slicked crack. “And I want you,” he adds, as if his hard cock dancing at Stiles entrance wasn’t proof enough.

“Yeah,” Stiles concurs. “I… hum… noticed that. But Derek, I’ve never… I mean, I want to, I do, but I don’t want… I can’t just…” He can’t even look a Derek anymore.

Derek gets it. _Of course_ Stiles would think hearing him jerk off turned Derek on and assume that Derek now just wants a fuck. He gently turns Stiles face until Stiles can’t help but look back at him.

“Stiles, I mean I want _you_. I want _this_. I want this, _with you_ , and not just right now. I love you too, you know. I’m in love with you. I was going to wait, give it time, take it slow, but then I heard you and, you know what? I don’t want to wait. I don’t need to wait. I know how I feel. If _you_ want to wait, that’s fine. I’ll wait ‘till you’re ready. Really, I will, there’s no rush, I’m in love with you, and believe me, that’s not going to change. So if it’s too much too soon, just say the word and…”

Stiles buries his face in Derek’s neck, and Derek is not sure if he’s laughing or sobbing or both. “Oh, god, Derek, me too, so much. No, I don’t want to wait! I’ve wanted you for ever... But you left and I… And you came back, and… So, yes, _yes, please_.” Stiles leans again on his pillow to look up at Derek. “I want this, with you, more than anything.”

Thrilled, Derek surges up to kiss him, and his dick just pops inside Stiles, easily, a good couple inches, surprising the hell out of both of them.   
“Oh, god,” says Stiles, round eyed, “Did your cock just… It did! Fuck, do that again.” And Derek does, backs up almost all the way out then pushes all the way in, because Stiles just opens for him, taking his dick with ease, as if he was made for it, just sheathing him in tight soft warmth and then tightening around him, Stiles eyes rolling back in his head as he mewls in pleasure. 

Derek wants to give him a moment but already Stiles is moving under him, bringing his knees up, wanting more so Derek gives it to him, fucking him deep and hard, loving it, oh, god, loving it, loving him, his Stiles, his mate… Their bodies move in flawless harmony, perfect together, the waves of pleasure deeper with each push, Stiles panting, saying his name like a prayer until his body trembles and tenses under Derek and Stiles opens his eyes, his body is arched, looking at Derek with wonder and awe as he comes, his dick untouched, breathtakingly gorgeous in his pleasure. He relaxes, his neck on display. 

_”Oh, fuck… Stiles!”_ This is the scent of his mate’s pleasure: come, sweat and utter satisfaction. His Stiles. His mate. The urge to initiate the bond is fierce. Derek feels his fangs drop. He pushes it back, concentrating on the physical sensation of being inside Stiles, on the ever more intense pleasure created by each rocking motion of his body. One more wave and he is swept by the tide. 

Deep insides Stiles, and he comes and comes, and keeps coming as if he was emptying his whole body. Orgasms have never felt this good. He didn’t know he could feel this good and not die. Back from his high, he savors the aftershocks. Stiles is looking at him with so much love Derek feels like crying, because he never thought anyone would ever look at him like that, and Stiles is and Derek loves him so desperately it almost hurts.

He starts laughing, because he feels so much joy, though a tear falls on Stiles parted lips. Stiles is laughing too, and they are holding on to each other, faces buried in each other’s neck, and Stiles says, “I thought it was going to hurt. Isn’t it supposed to hurt? Oh my god, Derek…”

Derek nuzzles his neck, kisses along his jaw, takes his weight off of him and kisses his shoulder, caresses the soft skin of his side as he pulls out of Stiles, as gently as possible. He grabs the first piece of clothing he finds and cleans them up a little before noticing it’s the shirt he was wearing on their run that morning, which he _knows_ he hooked on the doorknob inside his room to dry, so it wouldn’t mold or ferment or whatever once he put it in his laundry bag.

Stiles sees him noticing and blushes bright red, and he looks fucking adorable.

“I love your smell,” he says, sheepishly.

“Good, because it’s all over you, now.” He grins at Stiles who grins back. “I want to kiss you,” says Derek. “Can I kiss you?” They both crack up, because he certainly has not bothered to ask before and he just had his dick in Stiles, which is probably a good clue that yes, permission to kiss is granted.

Derek has fantasized about kissing these lips way longer than he is willing to admit, even to himself. Like kissing him before, like their fuck, it feels easy and right and perfect. Stiles’ lips are soft and elastic, his mouth wet and warm, his tongue welcoming and gentle. Derek has a fleeting thought of how amazing that tender mouth will feel on his dick, which twitches approvingly. Stiles smells wonderful, musk and cumin and some hints of maple sugar. He is soft and pliable and warm and sleepy, so Derek kisses his lips once more before he rolls him to his side and wrapping his arms around him, pulls him against his front, spooning him.

Stiles snuggles in and breathes deeply, happily, his heartbeats slow and strong. Derek is enjoying having him fall asleep in his arms when Stiles heart rate suddenly goes up. “This is a dream, isn’t it,” he cries. “It’s perfect because it’s just a dream…”

Derek kisses his nape and chortles. “I don’t think so, but just to make sure…” He pinches Stiles ass.

“Hey!” Stiles elbows him lightly in the ribs in retaliation, but Derek just keeps chuckling, holding him tighter so he cannot take further revenge.

Stiles relaxes again, and there is a definite smile in his voice when he says, “Nope, not a dream.” He mumbles happily, “How is this my life?” 

Though he is still cocooned in Derek’s arms, he is no longer drifting off. Derek can feel his eyelashes sweeping the sensitive skin of his arm when he blinks. Well, Stiles is awake now, so… “Stiles?” he asks, after a while.

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever come across any information about werewolf and mating in your research?”

“Hum… Yeah, some stuff. I looked into it, actually, when Scott and Allison were together. They were so disgustingly in love and perfect for each other. But it said only Alphas have mates, and that even then, it’s pretty rare, so...”

“Yes. It is rare for a werewolf to have a true mate. But I think you were right, about Scott and Allison. Scott is a true Alpha, he has had the potential all along, and the way he feels about Allison…”

“But they broke up, and well… She’s kind of seeing Isaac, now.”

“I don’t think she’s in love with Isaac, though. And Isaac… I think he’s sublimating.”

“Sublimating? What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I just made that up. It sounds right though. What I mean is that I think Scott is the person Isaac really loves and that Allison is the closest he can get.”

“Are you serious or are you just saying that because… well, because Isaac’s a dick?”

“No, I’m serious. I’m not a psychologist or anything, but that’s how it feels, to me. I think Isaac had a real traumatic childhood, and that he is emotionally confused.”

“So you think he’s in love with Scott?”

“Maybe. But maybe not even that. I think he… idolizes him? I don’t know. I may be completely wrong… And I don’t really care, actually. I don’t want to talk about _Isaac_.”

“What were we talking about? Oh, yeah. About Allison being Scott’s mate,” says Stiles.

“I don’t want to talk about Scott and Allison either, Stiles.” Derek takes a deep breath. “I want to talk about us.”

“About us?”

“Yes. Because… I was an Alpha, Stiles. I’m not anymore, but… I have a mate.”

Stiles goes completely rigid in his arms, and asks, “You do?” And it takes three seconds for Derek to realize Stiles actually believes Derek’s mate is _someone else_ , though how he could think that after tonight…

“You! Stiles! _You_ are my mate.”

“Wh… What?” Though Derek was holding him quite tightly, Stiles manages to turn around in his arms. “Me? I’m your mate? Are you sure?”

Derek caresses his face and looks in his eyes when he says, “Yes. I’m sure.”

“Wow. That’s uh…” Stiles looks a bit overwhelmed.

Though it guts him, Derek hurries to reassure him. “We don’t need to do anything about it, Stiles. It’s… A werewolf thing. I can… ignore it. The human part of me is in love with you. We can be together without completing the bond, without…”

“But you want to. You want us to bond.”

“…Yes. Very much.”

Stiles is quiet for a while. He looks wistful, and smells of sadness. Derek doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Stiles! Please tell me what you’re thinking!”

It is a while longer before he says quietly, “You know I use to have a crush on Lydia, right?”

“Yes.” Derek has no idea where Stiles is going with that.

“I kinda knew it was never gonna happen, you know? She is so far out of my league… But it was OK. Because when no one else ever showed any interest in me, I could tell myself it was because they all knew my heart belonged to Lydia. Then, you came along and thanks to my well-known Lydia obsession, no one ever figured out I was falling for you. Even now Scott thinks I’m still pining for her. Which is cool because it’s better for people to think I still have my stupid crush than for them to know I’m in love, truly in love with someone even more out of my league.” 

Stiles closes his eyes and swallows hard. The breath he takes is a little shaky. He opens his eyes and goes on. “But then you said you wanted to spend time with me. At first I thought it was because I was in your pack but you said it was because I was _me_ and that was… It felt good, you know? Because I know I’m smart, and I think I can be funny, and I try to take care of the people I love, and… I mean, I kind of wondered why that wasn’t enough, why _I_ wasn’t enough for someone to… you know, fall for me? 

“Then tonight I find out someone has, someone loves me, and it’s not just _anyone_ , it’s you! And you’re… amazing, never mind the most gorgeous man I know, also the man I’m so in love with… the man I’ve been in love with for… and I thought…”

He shrugs, dismissing whatever he was going to say. He looks… resigned as he continues, “But I’m your mate. You… love me, you want to be with me, all because I’m your mate. And it makes sense, really, I mean look at you! You could have anyone! Why would you want me? I’m a spaz, who talks too much, and I have these… stupid moles everywhere, and my clown face… I’m clumsy and sometimes I say stuff I shouldn’t, unkind stuff, and I’m skinny… Of course _if you had a choice_ , it wouldn’t be _me_. If you could choose, well, you probably would pick a girl, for one, because Paige, then Kate, then Jennifer, hello! It’s not like you’ve ever dated a guy! You’d probably choose some gorgeous girl who wouldn’t trip on her own feet, and has no brain to mouth filter, and gets on your last nerve all the time.

Stiles laughs, but it’s the saddest sound Derek has ever heard. “It’s obvious, right? It was stupid of me to think that you could just fall for _me_. I’m sorry, Derek. It seems you just can’t catch a break, Dude. So few chances to have a mate, and of all the luck, you get stuck with me.”

Derek’s heart is breaking. He hates Lydia at that moment, and Danny, and all the idiots out there who have ever given Stiles the idea that he is not worthy of love. He hates himself, because words are so hard for him. How can he even hope to explain to Stiles how wrong he is? But he has to try.

“You have it backwards, Stiles. I don’t think you understand what a mate is. If my ideal, my ultimate choice, my utmost desire was for a beautiful, graceful woman, quiet and agreeable, my mate _would be_ a beautiful graceful woman, quiet and agreeable, OK? _You_ are my mate because _you_ are everything I want, everything I need, my ideal, my ultimate choice, my utmost desire.

“Yes, you are smart, and funny, and loyal to a fault, and it should be enough for anyone, would definitely be enough for me. But all the other things you say about yourself are true too, except that you seem to think of them as negative, and I beg to differ. You are tall and lean, self conscious and endearingly awkward and sexy as hell. You’re bluntly truthful, and sarcastic and fearless, and delightfully random. Your words fill my silence, your enthusiasm overcomes my pessimism, and Stiles, you are so beautiful. Your eyes, your lips, your bone structure… I love your paleness, and your moles, and your hands…

“I don’t love you _because_ you are my mate, _despite_ of who you are. You are my mate _because_ I love _everything_ that you are.”

Derek feels good because, for once, he thinks he was able to express himself well. Stiles is looking at him, wide eyed, quiet for a moment, hopefully processing what Derek said.

He clears his throat and finally asks, “You love my hands?” and Derek chuckles because that _would_ be the thing Stiles would get hung up on.

“Yes. You have gorgeous hands.”

Stiles smiles a little but says, “Dude. You use to slam me into walls. We argued all the time!”

“You challenged me. You were never afraid to call my bullshit. You gave me what I needed at the time. That’s what a mate does.”

“Hmm. OK. Uh… Werewolves mate for life, right?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m human.”

“Yes. It’s easier for werewolves because once we recognize our mates, there is no doubt possible, no reason to hesitate. It is our instinct to complete the bond. But sometimes our mates are human, and mating is not a natural part of the human psyche, a normal part of the human experience. But humans are not immune to the supernatural. A human can become a werewolf, or have a magical spark. And they too can mate.”

“So, you’re my mate, too?”

“No. I’m the man you love. If we attempt to complete the bond, and it works, then I will be your mate. But the mating bond goes both ways, Stiles. It is magical. It will not form if it’s not meant to be. You only have your heart to guide you, not your instincts and you’re only eighteen, it’s OK if you are not ready for a lifelong commitment. I can wait.”

“But you’re sure,” Stiles asks again.

“Yes. The way I feel about you cannot be mistaken for anything else, Stiles. …And earlier, when I was inside you, I… I had to hold back from initiating the bond.”

“What does it take?”

“Love. Intent, like all magic. …And marking each other while we have sex.”

Stiles rocks his hips, pressing his hard erection against Derek’s hip. “I can’t even imagine a time when I would not love you. How many times have we almost died in the past three years? It’s taught me not to postpone happiness. I cannot think of one reason why I would not want us to be together as mates, right now. Not one.”

Derek’s heart is pounding in his chest. He wonders if he should tell Stiles to take the time to think about it, but he cannot think of a reason why. This is good. This is right. So instead, he leans forward and kisses Stiles mouth, lightly, gently, and Stiles opens for him, and put his hand behind Derek’s neck to pull him closer, eager for everything Derek has to give.

Derek rolls on top of him again and rub their erections together. He told himself earlier that next time they made love, he would take his time, discover all the wonders of his lover’s body, taste him, enjoy him, but it’s not going to happen, not now. There will be plenty of time for that later. Right now he wants to mate. Holding his weight on his elbow, he grabs the bottle of lube, which he noticed half stuck under Stiles pillow, pour some in his hand and rubs it on his dick.

Stiles laughs as he spread his legs wide and rotates his pelvis so Derek can have easy access. “I feel like a Victorian bride,” he jokes. “We only use the missionary position, and I have yet to see your cock.” But, as Derek guides himself in and sinks all the way to his balls, Stiles closes his eyes and moans. “…and I don’t care, ‘cause this feels so fucking good…”

And it does. As soon as Derek is fully in, Stiles seems to tighten around him, and when he starts moving, Stiles is right there with him, their bodies in harmony. Every time he plunges in the silken heat, he causes Stiles to keen in delight. Sex has never been this easy, pleasuring his partner so effortless. Stiles is panting and arching in his arms and driving him on, the noises he makes incredibly arousing.

“I’ve got to bite you,” says Derek, because the wolf wants it done right and though Derek finds it hard to think through the haze of bliss, he doesn’t want to take Stiles by surprise.

“Yes, please, Derek, please…” and Stiles turns his head, knowing instinctively what to do, exposing his shoulder and neck, though his body continues to rock in counterpoint to Derek’s.

Derek’s fangs drop. This is not just a nip. It’s a mating bite. Derek knows he still has the power to turn humans. He has retained that Alpha ability as well, he can feel it, but this bite will not turn Stiles. It has a different intent, a different chemistry. It will scar, though. It would scar a _werewolf_.

“Derek, I’m close. Please…” 

Derek’s fangs sink through the soft skin easily, where the shoulder meets the neck, penetrating deep into the trapezius muscle. Beneath him, Stiles convulses as he spills warmly between them, calling out his name. Derek sucks up the blood and licks the wound, his saliva both healing and scarring. Stiles shivers and moans as Derek keeps fucking him right through his orgasm.

Then Stiles encircles Derek’s hips in his legs, his feet crossing on Derek’s lower back, coaxing him on. He holds on tight around Derek’s neck and shoulder with one arm, his other hand on Derek’s bicep. Derek moves his head to the side, eager to give him access, and Stiles’ blunt human teeth tear their way through his skin and into his muscle, deeply.

The pleasure of the bite is so sharp, Derek’s rhythm fails and his hips stutter as he comes, deep inside Stiles, so hard he sees stars. Stiles lets go and licks the already healing bite. It will scar too, Stiles’ mark on him, everlasting. Derek would howl in triumph if John was not asleep in his recliner downstairs because he _is_ Stiles mate. The bond is complete. He feels it, bright and golden between them. He and Stiles are mated, forever.

He kisses Stiles and tastes the blood in his mouth. Smiling, he stares at his mate, who has blood on his lips and love in his eyes and looks magnificent. Stiles laughs. “I fucking bit you. Oh my god! Derek! I bit you as hard as I could. I couldn’t help it. What the fuck was that?”

“I bit you too,” remarks Derek. “It’s the mating mark. The scar will stay forever.” He cannot hide the pride he hears in his voice.

Stiles chuckles again. “Oh, fuck,” he says, the happiness in his voice belaying his words. “I just got werewolf married!”

Derek grins at him. “You’re _mine_ ,” he says, with no small amount of satisfaction.

He can tell Stiles is about to give him shit about _that_ when Stiles stops and expressions of surprise, awe and joy cross his face in rapid succession. There is wonder in his voice when he says, “You’re mine, too,” and his smile is blinding.

“Yes,” confirms Derek. “I am.”

“I love you,” says Stiles, trying not to show how vulnerable he feels, testing the reality of the bond he just discovered.

“And I love you. More than anything in the world, and forever,” answers Derek, unafraid because _he_ knows, instinctively, that it means to be mates.

“You do. You really do. I can tell,” says Stiles, amazed.

“And I want you again,” adds Derek, _whose dick has not softened_ , with a push of his hips.

“Oh, fuck. Me too. I can’t believe I’m hard again. Still hard? Who the fuck cares… Fuck me, please. Hard.”

Derek licks the blood off Stiles lips, works Stiles knees onto his shoulders and snaps his hips forward. His dick bottoms in deeper than before, and Stiles is his to look at as if fucks him relentlessly. Stiles stomach and chest are covered in come and sweat. Derek’s bite mark is an angry red against his pale skin. His pink nipples are hard. Stiles fists the sheets, bites his lips and fights to keep looking at Derek though his eyes want to close on the mounting pleasure. His voice catches when he says, “It feels so good Derek, so good…”

“You’re so tight, and warm and soft inside,” Derek tells him. “I’m gonna come soon. Touch yourself, Stiles. Come with me…”

Stiles grabs his cock and jerks himself fast, holding nothing back. He arches his back, calls out “Derek!” and Derek looses it as Stiles body trembles and thick come spurts weakly from his dick. Derek comes and comes and keeps coming, the pleasure seeming to built each time is body contracts to spray his release, each jet stronger, till he wonders how much his body can produce. 

He finally collapses, dropping half on half off of Stiles. He is shivering, trying to catch his breath and reboot his brain, his nose pressed on Stiles shoulder. His softened dick slips out of Stiles but he doesn’t have it in him to move yet.

Stiles rubs his back and kisses his shoulders as his body stills.

“You’re OK, there, Big Guy?” he asks.

Derek chuckles. “I came my brains out. Literally. I feel completely wrung out.”

Stiles laughs. “I know, right? I think if I came again tonight nothing would come out except a little flag that’d say “Bang!”

Oh, god. The image. Derek starts laughing and he can’t stop. He fucking loves this man. Their eyes meet and they’re off again. Derek is laughing so hard his side hurts. When they finally calm down, they are still grinning like idiots at each other.

“I need to shower and I got to change these sheets. I’m like… swimming in come,” comments Stiles.

“Go shower. I’ll strip your bed. We can sleep in mine for the rest of the night.”

“Dude… My dad…”

“Stiles, do you want to keep this from him?”

Stiles smiles. “No. Hell, no. But I’d rather he not find out by catching us together in bed.”

“He’s deep asleep. Really deep, like maybe he hasn’t had a good night sleep for a while.”

“I think he might have always been listening, while he slept. In case I had a panic attack. Maybe, with you here, he’s given his body permission to really go under. He has a seven o’clock shift. I should set my phone so I can make sure he wakes up. I can make him breakfast.” 

He gets up and makes a face when he realizes just how messy sex can be. He looks down, catches a dribble of come running down his leg and says, “OK, that’s just gross.” Then he looks at Derek with an awesome smile. “So worth it though. It was better than anything I ever imagined…”

Derek tries not to preen and smiles back.

“I love it when you smile,” says Stiles as he walks out.

That’s good, because Derek can’t help but keep smiling as he strips the bed. He shoves the sheets in the hamper, and goes join Stiles in the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	12. Best friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way to long... I'm afraid I also rewrote it after beta, but wanted to put it up, so there might be mistakes. Sorry. The epilogue is at beta. I'll post it as soon as I get it back. :)

Stiles alarm goes off at five. Derek goes from deep oblivion to full awareness immediately, and basks in happiness and joy, his naked front plastered to his mate’s naked back, his right arm around Stiles’ chest, his left one a pillow to Stiles’ head. Stiles turns in his arms and his smile reflects Derek’s feelings exactly. Their mingled scent is perfect, composed of both their deep unchangeable base ones, their sleep scents, their happy excitement scents, and their nascent arousal scents, mixing in delicious harmony. 

Derek would love to play in bed with Stiles all day, to finally take his time and look his fill, to learn his mate’s body, but that is not the plan this morning. After a light kiss, they both get out of Derek’s bed in the pale morning light.

“See you downstairs,” says Stiles, smiling, as he heads for his room to throw some clothes on before going downstairs to wake up his dad. Too bad. Derek likes him in nothing but his star wars underwear.

This morning, they are planning on cooking the Sheriff breakfast and telling him about their relationship while they eat. It’s only 5:15, because they want to make sure they have plenty of time to talk before he leaves for his 7:00 o’clock shift. Then Derek is planning on going back to the new house to give Stiles and Scott time alone for their talk. He doesn’t really want to, but he knows Scott and Stiles need to relate to each other as best friends, without interference on his part.

Once dressed, Derek takes the time to make his bed, and hearing the shower going, gets fresh linens out of the closet and goes and makes up Stiles’ bed too while the sheriff gets ready for work. He picks up last night’s dirty sheets from the floor, resisting the temptation to bury his face in them and let the scent of sex drown him in the memories of their coupling. Still, he’s half hard as he reaches the laundry room and shoves the sheets in the washer, laughing at himself as he adds the soap and starts the hot water cycle.

That done, Derek joins Stiles in the kitchen where he is quartering and peeling ripe peaches as oatmeal bubbles on the stove.

“The coffee’s ready,” says Stiles, looking up at him with a smile. He’s thrown on an old t-shirt and sleep pants and his hair is standing funny, since he fell asleep with it wet, and looks adorable. He has taken time to brush his teeth. Derek smells the mint in his breath. That deserves a kiss. As a werewolf, he never has to worry about his breath. Bacteria have no more of a chance to multiply in his saliva than anywhere else in his body, so he doesn’t get bad breath, brushing and flossing only to get food particles out. 

He bends down and presses his lips to Stiles’ warm and soft ones, and it quickly becomes a deeper kiss. Stiles’ mouth is addictive. Only the sound of the Sheriff coming out of his room makes Derek straighten back up. He and Stiles grin at each other. Stiles scent is warm and happy.

Derek is pouring coffee in three cups when John enters the kitchen.

“You’re up too? Did you boys fall out of bed this morning?” asks John teasingly, as he accepts his coffee from Derek. He steals a peeled quarter of peach from the bowl Stiles is dropping them in and eats it, careful not to drop juice on his clean uniform.

“Fabulous,” he comments. “Fresh peaches this time a year? And ripe too. I wonder where these are from.”

Stiles shrugs. “The farmer’s market?”

“Uh,” says John, probably wondering how they could possibly be local. He shrugs too, and takes bowls out of the cupboard, putting them on the table.

“The oatmeal should be ready,” says Stiles to Derek.

Derek brings the hot pan to the table while the sheriff gets brown sugar, milk and spoons out. They sit down and dish out, doctoring their oatmeal in silence, like it’s a religious ritual. Derek’s knee is touching Stiles’ thigh, their bond making the casual touch warm, reassuring, supportive. 

Only after taking his first, evidently satisfactory bite does John start a conversation. “So, are you seeing Scott today?” he asks Stiles.

“Yep. This morning. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but…”

“Yeah. I can see that. Don’t worry too much, son. It will work out.”

Stiles smiles at his dad, who smiles back. Derek feels a rush of affection for the sheriff, who means so much to his mate, and is able to give him such casual yet meaningful reassurance.

“What about you, Derek? Any plans today?” asks John.

“Nothing earth shattering. I’m going to start looking for a job, though, I think. Maybe volunteer work, I don’t know. Hmm. But first, I want to talk to you about Stiles and I.” Nice segue. Smooth. Derek would roll his eyes at himself if he could. Stiles grins at him, though, so he’s all right.

John stops eating, a spoonful of oatmeal on his way to his mouth and looks at him questioningly. Though he is aware his silence is getting weird, Derek doesn’t know where to go from there. 

Stiles cracks up. He takes the initiative and says, “Derek and I kinda are dating now, Dad. But you know… werewolves.”

“Kinda are dating?” mocks John. “Derek? You were saying?”

“Well, Stiles and I… We’re not _dating_.” How do you explain to a teenager’s father that his son is, for all intent and purposes, married to you? “Stiles is my mate, and I am his.” And no matter how hard he tries not to, he sounds ridiculously proud.

John eats his spoonful of oatmeal, obviously waiting for more. Derek takes a breath, and, aware Stiles is amused by how hard it is for him to speak, especially when he is emotional, sends his mate a poisonous glare.

John puts down his spoon and sits back in his chair, probably realizing Derek needs all the help he can get. “Your uncle mentioned Stiles might be your ‘human mate’, yesterday, but he was already sharing a lot of information with me so I let that one go at the time. But it sounds as if I need to understand what that means, now.” His wise perceptive eyes meet Derek’s, who sees nothing but kindness in them. “Go on, son,” John says, encouragingly.

Derek takes a breath. “Werewolwes… we… It is rare to have a true mate. Only Alphas do, well, mostly, and even then, they don’t, in general. I… I’m not one anymore but… Well, Stiles!” Relieved to have said his piece, he looks at John, and realizes from his slight frown that he might not have been as clear as he was hoping to be. He clears his throat. The sheriff and Stiles have both resumed eating, and are just looking at him, waiting for him to make sense, maybe.

So he forges on. “I knew Stiles was… Well, the wolf in me did, but it has to go both ways? And Stiles doesn’t have a wolf and he… Werewolves mate for life? Humans have to feel that way for it to form. And it did. Form.” Now he is aware he is grinning like the cat that got the cream, but he can’t help it. “Our mating bond. It’s very strong,” he finishes proudly.

John sighs. “Whatever job you get, make sure it doesn’t involve public speaking,” he advises, not unkindly. “Stiles? Care to clarify?”

“Dad, Derek and I… love each other.” He blushes and looks at Derek quickly, as if he needs confirmation. “He said I was his mate, and I told him I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. And I really mean it, so a mating bond successfully formed between us… and it’s forever.”

John clears his throat and takes a breath. He looks as if he regrets what he is about to say, but feels he must impart some hard truths to his son. “Stiles, I’m sure you believe that. Everyone does the first time they fall in love, but you’re only eighteen. Forever is a long time, son. People change, grow apart…”

Stiles starts flailing his arms in gestures halfway between those of a traffic cop signaling ‘Stop’ and the universal hand across the throat signs to desist. “Dad!”

“What?”

“Dad,” Stiles leans forward, and speaks with emphasis, to try and get his point across. “Werewolves are _real_. I have _magic_. A mating bond is not a ….crush! Derek and I are _true mates_. We _are_ really going to be together forever because we _actually_ are each other’s _perfect_ match. It’s… stronger than marriage because there is no divorce, because no mates would _ever_ want one. True love, Dad. Soulmates, happily ever after. It’s a thing. It’s real! Just like werewolves and magic.”

The sheriff looks from Stiles to Derek and back again. “You mean it’s an actual… tangible, real kind of bond?” And you two are sure that…”

Stiles reaches for Derek’s hand and smiles at him, before turning back to his dad. “Yep!”

Derek knows of a way to prove it. He pulls on his shirt collar and shows off the scar of Stiles bite. “Stiles marked me.” His smiles falter when he sees the sheriff’s frown.

“Stiles! You _bit_ Derek?” He sounds appalled at his son.

Stiles chuckles. “I know! Crazy stuff… But yeah, I did. I couldn’t help it. I bit him _as hard as I could_. Werewolves, man… I tell you… But the point is, Dad, you know how they heal. Perfectly. Even from the most gruesome wounds. Derek had a rebar put through his body, he’s been slashed open, stabbed, shot with bullets, arrows, and none of it left even the smallest physical scar. But my bite scarred him. He will bear my mating mark forever.”

“So… Did Derek…” John waves his hand around his own neck.

“He did.” Stiles pulls his shirt over, and shows off his fully healed bite mark, the scar tissue raised and slightly whiter than his already pale skin. Derek’s wolf is immensely pleased his mate is showing off his mark, but cannot help but growl in warning as John’s hand reaches towards it.

John pulls back his hand immediately and sits back in his chair, his heart beating way too fast, fear in his scent. “No touching Stiles surprisingly well healed bite mark,” he says to Derek, “Got it.”

“No! Oh, god, I’m sorry!” Derek hurries to say, feeling awful when he realizes he was also flashing his blue eyes at John, horrified to have scared him. “I apologize. Of course you may check Stiles’ mark. You’re his father. I… This is so new, I didn’t know my wolf would react so strongly.” He looks seriously at John. “You have no reason to fear me, John, I swear. Not ever. I would never hurt you.”

The sheriff looks at him doubtfully. “Derek, you were _growling_ at me,” he says pointedly, his heart still beating a bit fast, and his scent definitely tinged with fear.

Derek is ashamed at his lack of control, ashamed to have shown such disrespect to his mate’s father. He doesn’t want John to see him as a six foot, two hundred pounds lethal predator. So he answers, “And if I ever do anything like that again, feel free to smack me on the side of the head, just like my dad used to do when I forgot myself when I was a kid. I usually have better control than that. As I said, this is new. I didn’t expect how… protective I would feel of that mark. Now I know. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Smack you on the side of the head?” asks John with a disbelieving chuckle. 

“I’ve seen you do it to Stiles when _he_ acts like an idiot,” Derek points out, shrugging. He wants John to understand that he doesn’t have to fear retaliation from him any more than he would from Stiles.

John looks at him for a moment, and then, having come to some sort of conclusion, he says, sternly, “And you will get the same treatment when _you_ act like an idiot, _Son_ , I don’t care if you are all grown up.”

“Yes, sir,” answers Derek meekly, looking down in submission, as his heart is soaring at the meaning John has put behind his words. 

“All right then,” says John. “Now, let me see these marks.”

Derek doesn’t move an inch when John reaches towards him and pulls the neck of his shirt aside. He actually lean his head to the side, exposing his neck when John run his fingers lightly on the mark left by Stiles bite. John’s heart is beating fast, but his hand is steady, and Derek is sure he understands all that is implied in both their gestures. Derek is also careful not to react when John does the same to Stiles. 

John comments, “I don’t know what’s more amazing: That Stiles’s scar looks ten years old or that you, Derek, have one at all. So. Soulmates…” He shakes his head a little, then tells his son, “You know, Stiles, I always thought your mom and I were made for each other? There was not one thing I didn’t love about that woman.” He smiles and adds wistfully, “If what you two have is anything like what she and I had, well, I can only be truly happy for the both of you.”

Derek sees a deep kind of understanding flowing between father and son. Stiles says softly, “Thanks, Dad.” 

John acknowledges his answer with a nod, before going back to his long neglected breakfast. A few minutes later, his eyes are filled with mischief when he adds, with laughter in his voice, “You know, boys, those first couple years, Claudia and I went at it like rabbits. Please be kind and keep it in the bedroom, will you? And remember to lock your door, OK?”

Derek almost chokes on his peach and Stiles whines “Daa-aad!” in protest as John just chuckles, pleased with himself. 

At 6:45, Derek and the Sheriff leave the house at the same time, not because there is any chance that Scott might come over before mid-morning, but because Derek is pretty sure that left alone in the house, he and Stiles would quickly forget he is coming altogether… And finding them in bed together might not be the best way to start the conversation Stiles plans to have with him.

Derek heads for the new Hale house, hoping he might be able to talk Cora, Peter or both into a run in the preserve.

~o~

Stiles is reading about plants and their uses in magic on an Internet site that actually seams to be reliable, since it agrees with everything Stiles already knows from experience, when he hears Scott’s bike stopping in front. Even though he is a bit nervous about the coming discussion, he is still grinning when he goes and gets the door. He has missed Scott a lot.

Scott’s smile is even sunnier than his, and Scott throws himself on Stiles, laughing, saying, “Dude! I’m so happy!”

Though Stiles knows Scott loves him, he is pretty sure that something else is going on, here. He hugs Scott back, glad to share his happiness, whatever caused it.

They pull out of the hug. Scott still looks thrilled to pieces. “You know Allison called last night and asked me to come over to talk about something important?” he says, finally coming in, and dropping his backpack, his helmet and his jacket on the ground by the door.

“Uh-huh,” prompt Stiles, choosing not to remind Scott that he, too had called the day before wanting him ‘to come over to talk about something important’ because he loves seeing Scott so vibrantly happy.

They walk to the living room and drop into the couch in their usual position, leaning on the armrests and facing each other, as Scott goes on, “Well, it turns out, she talked to Derek (and man, do I owe him!), and he said something to her about Alphas having true mates, implying she was mine, and it made her hopeful that perhaps I still loved her (like, pff! As if there was any doubt!). Because I had seemed all right with her and Isaac, she thought maybe I was over her, but she still loves me and she wanted to know if Derek was right.”

Scott laughs again, so happy it just spills over. “So I asked her, ‘What about Isaac?’ and apparently she talked to him, and explained that if there was any chance I might want her back, she wanted to try again, and he said he understood, because he thinks I’m amazing. Which, hey, Isaac thinks I’m amazing, which is pretty cool right there, right? Anyway, we kissed (Allison and I, not Isaac and I, obviously), and Stiles! It was so good! She smells so great, and holding her again, gosh…” He has that dopey, totally in love look on his face. “Anyway, we went to her room and, you know… that happened, and it was _fantastic_ , even better than before, and Dude! She loves me! Allison. Loves. Me!!” He giggles like a five year old. “I have to talk to Derek about this mate thing, because I think he’s right and I need to know what it really means…”

That’s a perfect segue, so Stiles jumps in, “Well, actually…”

“Wait! Wait! That’s not all!” Scott interrupts. “It gets even _better_! I heard her Dad’s car, right? and I told her he was coming, so I had to get out, and she said ‘No!’. Turns out Chris heard what Derek said too, and they discussed it, and he was all right with us being together, even said I could stay the night if I wanted. Can you believe it? Needless to say, I was a little nervous in the morning when we came down, but he had made breakfast (Pancakes, Dude! Awesome, amirite?), and he was totally cool, and we talked. He knows a lot about packs, you know?” 

Scott makes a face. “Turns out that you and Allison were right, and I should have answered Derek right away when he asked about staying.” He makes a face. “Truthfully? I kinda knew I was being petty, but I didn’t realize that I was insulting him, like, badly. Which now I feel really shitty about because Chris said Derek gave me some really good advice about the twins, and then Derek said what he said to Allison about mates, which got us back together, and I was a total douche to him, and even _you_ were pissed off at me, so, yeah. Total dick move on my part…”

Scott shrugs and goes on, “Anyhow. Chris and Derek have made me realize that I really need to do something about being the Alpha. Chris said it’s important for pack members to feel like the Alpha is in control, that the pack is a solid entity, that there is a structure, with everyone’s place defined…”

Wow. Stiles never thought he would feel gratitude towards Chris Argent, but he really does. Chris has really paved the way for him. “About that,” he starts, only for Scott to interrupt him _again_.

“I know man. After I thought about it, I figured that’s the ‘important thing’ you wanted to talk to me about. It was, wasn’t it?” Scott looks at Stiles with an earnest look on his face.

“Yeah, it’s…” starts Stiles, only for Scott to interrupt _yet again_!

“I knew it!” Scotts says with a huge smile. “You’d be the one to say something when I’m fucking up, you know? That’s why you’re my best friend! Well, you’re going to be glad to know that I’ve already started. I called a pack meeting, messaged everyone.” 

Before Stiles can say anything, there’s a knock on the door. Stiles wonders who it might be, but Scott says, “Cool! Perfect timing! They’re here!” and he gets up to answer the door.

“You mean you called a pack meeting for today? Here?” Stiles asks him, truly astonished.

“Perfect, yeah?” says Scott, proudly. “We’re both here already, and the sooner the better, right?”

As he leaves the room, Stiles slouches down and drops his head back on the armrest, letting out a huge sigh, just blown away. With Scott greeting people in the background, he takes a deep breath, vividly reminded how Derek pointed out that Scott takes a lot for granted.

He asked for time with Scott, and was blown off: What he considers important took a back sit to what Allison considers important, as usual. Scott has not _once_ asked him what Stiles wanted to see him about, just assuming he already knows. He has not given Stiles a chance to say anything, making the conversation entirely about himself. He’s called a pack meeting to Stile’s house without bothering to ask, and has made it so soon that he has not given Stiles any chance to say what’s on his mind. 

Besides being pissed, Stiles is kind of hurt and disappointed. He was going to tell Scott he needed to work on his pack, and tell him about territory, but first, he was excited to tell him about Derek. Though he knows Scott’s feelings towards Derek are ambivalent, he too wanted to share the wonder of being in love with his best friend, share his excitement. He actually hoped his best friend would be happy for him.

He wanted to tell Scott all he knew about mates, too. He had decided to tell him that being Derek’s mate was why he had to be in the Hale pack, in an effort to save Scott’s feelings.

Stiles feels so let down and a bit vindictive. As Scott’s pack starts filing in, he decides to just sit back and watch the proceedings. Forget saving Scott’s feelings. He’s pretty sure at some point the shit is going to hit the fan, and now, it’s going to do so in front of an audience. Oh, well, too fucking bad.

Allison enters first, smiling at him. He smiles back warmly. He genuinely likes Allison, and is really glad she and Scott are back together. Her awesomeness was totally wasted on Isaac. Now that they have Chris’s approval, they can be a real couple, and Allison is perfect for Scott. The fact that apparently she also gave Scott a hard time about making Derek wait before welcoming him back into Beacon Hills doesn’t hurt. She sits next to him on the couch and says, “Hey, there! You never showed up the other night! I miss you. What have you been up to?”

He is about to answer when Isaac walks in, looking a bit tragic. Obviously, Scott has told him he and Allison are a couple again. Allison takes one look at his expression and says, “Oh, Isaac…” and gets back up to give him a hug.

“I’m really happy for you Ally,” Isaac says, actually sounding sincere. “You two deserve one another.”

She sits back down, but her whispered conversation with Isaac who sat next to her now has all her attention. 

Stiles kind of laughs inside. Today is just not his day! 

“Hey Isaac. How is it going?” he asks, because, well, this is _his_ house and Isaac did not so much as nod in greeting, but really also because Stiles getting tired of being ignored and Isaac is a total dick anyway. 

“Oh,” says Isaac, as if he surprised to see Stiles there, even though he _is_ in Stiles living room. “Hi Stiles.” His private conversation with Allison does not resume, and though it’s silly, it makes Stiles feel somewhat vindicated.

Aiden and Ethan come in. Contrarily to Isaac, they both immediately zone in on Stiles, then look at each other. Ethan raises an eyebrow at his brother, Aiden shrugs in response, and only after what, Stiles is sure, amounted to a complete conversation between them, do they turn back to him. “Hey Stiles,” says Ethan, with a friendly smile. “What’s up, Buttercup?” says Aiden, and yeah, that confirms it for Stiles. He definitely likes Ethan best… They take the loveseat.

Finally, Scott comes in and sits in John’s lazyboy. He checks his phone and asks, “Have you guys heard anything from Lydia? She didn’t answer my message.”

“Nope,” says Aiden.

“I talked to her this morning,” says Allison. “She said she wouldn’t make it, that something came up, but that she’d talked to you later.” 

Stiles wonders what Lydia thought of being invited to a McCall pack meeting at _his_ house. He is quite sure she was amused.

“Oh. Well, that all right then,” says Scott. He looks awkwardly at them all, “Anyway, uh… I wanted to have a meeting to talk about our pack, make sure we’re all on the same page.” He takes a deep breath. “ First, Aiden, Ethan, I need to know if you’re in or out. If you’re in, you need to give up being Alphas, and, uh, accept me as your Alpha, I guess.”

“That’s cool,” says Ethan easily. “We talked about it, and we want to be in your pack. We were actually kind of wondering when you were going to get to it. We’re definitely in.”

He gets up, as does Aiden, walks to Scott, gets on his knees and tilts his head back, baring his throat. Looking supremely uncomfortable but determined, Scott wolfs out, leans down and bites his neck lightly, drawing beads of blood, and then does the same to Aiden. They bow their heads and say, “Alpha” at the exact same time. Scott runs his hands through their hair and let them rest lightly on the back of their necks for a moment. He shivers, his eyes glowing bright crimson, then grins, shifting back to human.

“Well, that was a rush,” he admits. All three of them crack up, stand, and hug it out for a minute. Then the twins, all smiles, get hugs from Isaac who also stood up. Stiles guesses that the pack bond that was just formed feels tangible to the wolves but not to the human pack members since Allison is just smiling happily but doesn’t feel the need to participate in the hug fest. Everyone sits back down.

“So,” says Scott, looking much more poised and confident. “Allison is my true mate. Well, my wolf knows she is, and Allison is pretty sure of it too so…” he shrugs, “but you guys know I was bitten, and that I don’t know a whole lot about werewolf traditions and stuff. We are going to ask Dr. Deaton what we have to do, if there are rites or whatever. That will make her the Alpha’s mate, and from what her Dad says, everyone in the pack will be able to feel it, will feel our bond.”

Stiles just wants to crack up. He has a feeling that Deaton will make them go through some kind of a ritual. He’s hoping he’ll have them bathe naked in the cold river, anoint them with some weird stinking herbs and have them fuck outdoors on a full moon, in a circle of mountain ash, with their whole pack witnessing the deed as they mark each other, or some such nonsense. He can’t wait to hear about it.

Scott goes on, “Isaac was my first Beta.” He turns to Isaac with a smile. “Actually, he was kind of my Beta even before I became a true Alpha, so… he is my second in the pack.”

Isaac is beaming, looking admiringly at Scott. Stiles can totally see what Derek meant about Isaac idolizing him. Allison turns to Stiles, looking a bit concerned. Stiles loves her for realizing that Stiles had Scott’s back waaaay before Isaac was ever turned, and that as such, Stiles might consider _himself_ Scott’s oldest Beta. He wonders if perhaps Scott is not subconsciously aware that Stiles is not in his pack. It’s either that, or Scott doesn’t count humans as Betas which… well, whatever. Stiles smiles reassuringly at Allison and shrugs minutely, letting her know he is fine with it. She smiles back, looking relieved. Stiles loves her cute dimply smile.

“OK,” says Scott. “So, the next thing Chris said we needed to talk about was territory. Beacon Hills and the surrounding area are Pack Hale’s ancestral territory, and apparently, though I became an Alpha around the same time that Derek gave up his power, it doesn’t automatically means that the Hale territory passed to me.”

“Yeah. We were bitten too,” says Ethan, “so we don’t know that much, but we were wondering what you were going to do about that.” He makes a face. “Territory law is really complex, apparently, but we did learn some of it from Deucalion. Truthfully? From what we know, it would have been much better if you had accepted the Hales in the pack, and taken on their name, though even then... It might not have been enough, though possession being 9/10th of the law. Anyway, we’re not sure if you made the right decision not to take them as Betas. It might not be too late, maybe.”

Scott is shaking his head ‘No’ and says, “It didn’t feel right. I fought against Peter’s hold on me as my sire, I never felt part of Derek’s pack, and it did not feel right to have him, Cora and Peter in my pack. I don’t care if it wasn’t politic. I had to go with my feelings on that one.”

At that moment, Stiles forgets he is pissed at Scott and feels proud of him. He is really glad Scott stands by his decision now that he knows there are consequences to it, instead of wishing he had known ahead of time.

“So, what do you think will happen now?” Scott asks the brothers.

Aiden and Ethan look at each other. Aiden shrugs. 

“There are a couple of possible ways to solidly secure the territory,” Ethan says. He looks significantly from Allison to Scott. “At this point, if an _as-of-yet unbounded_ Alpha mated with one of the Hales (like, say, Cora Hale, if that Alpha’s straight. She’s pretty hot.) and the Alpha then took on the Hale name, he automatically would become the new Hale Alpha, with the territory as a very nice mating present… It might be a big personal sacrifice… but worthwhile, in the end.” 

Ethan shrugs. “Needless to say, even if an Alpha is interested in such a prime territory, it doesn’t automatically follows that he will be able to woe one of the three Hales with just flowers and gifts. He might have to be a bit more… aggressive in his approach.” Ethan leans forward. “Scott, if the Hale territory passes into the hands of an Alpha with a pre-existing pack, once they hold the territory, they’ll either absorb our pack, or get rid of it . By chasing us out or well, actually ‘getting rid’ of… us.” 

Aiden adds pointedly, “Now, should _all three_ surviving Hales come to _an untimely end_ , the territory will become up for grabs. That is the _only_ chance for a pack with an _already mated Alpha_ to get a hold of the territory.” 

“Oh, my god!” cries Scott outraged. “That’s awful. We need to warn Derek, Cora and Peter! They might be targeted for, what, rape? Forced bonding? How does that even work? Or some greedy Alpha might even try to _murder_ them? Holy shit!” He shakes his head. “We need to organize ourselves to protect them. We can work something out, I’m sure.” He seems to notice the dubious look the twins exchange. “They may not be pack, but they are still our friends,” he says, decisively.

Once again, Stiles finds himself forgiving a lot of Scott’s shortcomings, and remembering why he is his best friend. His first thought is to help, to protect. The fact that Scott’s two newest Betas just suggested to him that it would be more strategic for him to mate with Cora than with Allison, or that, if that’s really not possible, his pack should simply kill the last of the Hale family has completely gone over his head. Allison’s hands are fisted so tight her knuckles are white. Evidently, not all of Scott’s pack is so naïve.

The twins look at each other and again Stiles can tell there is some kind of silent conversation going on between them. Then Ethan says, “That is a generous impulse, Scott, but you don’t realize what we’ll be facing. For example, the closest pack to the North is pretty aggressive. Their territory is kind of small and they are twenty-seven adult wolves strong, most of them _born_ werewolves, all of them well trained. Their Alpha is already mated. If they come after Derek, Peter and Cora, it will be one Alpha, one Alpha’s mate and _twenty-five_ strong betas against you, your human Alpha’s mate, your three betas, plus the Hales: three omegas. 27 to 8. Not the best odds…”

Stiles finds it interesting that Ethan does not include Lydia or himself in the headcount. Aiden adds, “You’ll _need_ to bite some strong young guys to help us defend ourselves. The rest of the Lacrosse team would probably be a good choice. You’re already their captain… ”

Scott shakes his head and says firmly, “No way. I’m not biting anybody…”

Stiles decides it’s definitely time for him to intervene. “Scott.”

Scott ignores him and goes on, “We managed against the Alpha pack. I think…”

“Scott!”

“… because of that, any werewolf pack might be weary…”

“ _SCOTT!!!_

Scott snaps at him, “What?”

Finally! “You don’t have all the relevant information. I asked you over last night because there are some new developments regarding _this exact subject_ that you need to be aware of.”

Aiden’s eyes narrows and he leans forward. “What do you know, Stilinski?”

Stiles ignores him, and directs his answer to Scott. “The Hale pack _already_ has a new Alpha. The Hale territory is secure.”

“Did one of the Hale take a mate?” asks Ethan before anyone else has a chance to speak.

“Well, yes. As the matter of fact, Derek did, but his mate is _not_ the new Hale Alpha,” says Stiles, kind of enjoying giving them information one drop at a time, seeing that he has been ignored every time he has tried sharing it so far.

“Well, then, who is?” asks Isaac.

Ok. So Stiles might enjoy a slight theatrical pause, there. Who wouldn’t? Finally, he drops the bomb. “Peter Hale.”

How different their reactions are is revealing and fun to watch. Understandably, Scott and Allison look horrified. Stiles knows the feeling… He was too, at first. Isaac and the twins just look really confused. “Which Alpha did he kill?” asks Isaac at the same time as Aiden asks, “Where did he get the power from?”

“Peter is not _at all_ the monster he was last time,” Stiles says first, to reassure Scott and Allison. “He shifts to a full wolf now, like all the legitimate Hale Alphas, not that weird-ass monster he was before. You should see him: It’s amazing.” 

He turns to Isaac. “He didn’t need to kill an Alpha wolf. He used to be an Alpha once, so he already had the Alpha spark. He only needed enough power to become an Alpha _again_ , the same power Aidan and Ethan passed to Scott earlier, when they suppressed their Alpha sparks and became his Betas.” 

Finally, he turns to the twins. “And he got it from an ancient mystical power source that has been in the Hale territory and connected to the Hales as long as there have been Hale werewolves in the land. Peter was Talia Hale’s second. He was always meant to become the next Hale Alpha after she died. …It’s a long story.”

Allison is frowning. “My dad met with Peter Hale last night. I had a feeling he was not telling us everything he knew this morning,” she tells Scott. “I bet he knows this already. What I don’t understand is why Derek asked Scott permission to be in the territory…”

“Derek doesn’t know much more about territory law and inter-pack politics than Scott does,” Stiles explains. “He was never meant to be the Alpha. And he didn’t know Peter was an Alpha until yesterday. He asked in good faith. Besides, Peter has…” 

Isaac interrupts him, and asks Scott worriedly, “If this is Hale territory, does it mean Peter is going to ask us to leave?”

Scott turns to Aiden, who shrugs and says, “He could. Or offer us to join his pack.”

“Stiles,” says Scott, “can you research what happens in cases like this? Maybe you could talk to Derek and see if Peter will let us stay until next year? I mean, we’ll all be heading to college anyway…”

Yep, Derek was right. Scott really takes a hell of a lot for granted, including Stiles.

He answers calmly, “I think you should ask your emissary for that kind of information, Scott. He’s the one who should do your research for you, not me. And as far as speaking to Derek, your second should be the one to do that. It is one of his jobs to deal with inter-pack relations,” he says, matter-of-factly.

Allison turns to Stiles. “But Stiles, aren’t you our emissary? I figured that was why you weren’t Scott’s second…”

Stiles corrects her. “Scott’s already asked Deaton to be his emissary,” and Aiden chimes in, “Stilinski can’t be either. He is not even pack!”

Allison, looking surprised, addresses Scott first. “Dr. Deaton is our emissary?” she asks him, then she turns to correct Aiden. “Of course Stiles is pack!” and turning back to Scott again, ”I thought you didn’t ask Stiles to be your second because you wanted _him_ as our emissary…”

Stiles clarifies, “Actually, Aiden’s right, Allison. I can’t be either. I’m not in Scott’s pack.”

“What?” exclaims Scott. “Come on, Stiles! Of course you are. Obviously! I didn’t think I needed to mention it!” Scott has the grace to look a little embarrassed, “As far as being the emissary, Dr. Deaton has a lot of experience. I’m sorry, but I thought that since I’m new at this, I could use all the help I could get.” His expression is begging Stiles for understanding. “And well, if something happens to me, my second becomes the Alpha, right? I don’t think humans can be Alphas! So it had to be Isaac… But that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re pack! Obviously, you are! You’re my best friend!”

“Hmm… You know what?” answers Stiles, “You have a point. I don’t know if a human can be the Alpha of a werewolf pack either. But I think you would maybe have asked me to research it for you if that was something you _really_ wanted to know, if you’d _really_ considered it…” 

He lifts his hand to stop Scott interrupting him again. He’s had it already with interruptions. “It’s besides the point anyway, and it’s cool, because seriously, Scott, although you _are_ my best friend, you are _not_ my Alpha. Peter Hale is.” Stiles shrugs and says with a small smile, “It turns out that he was, even way back then, when he was insane. Then Derek was, when _he_ became the Hale Alpha. I’ve been in the Hale pack _all along_ , even when _you_ didn’t want to be. And I still am.”

Allison looks surprised, Isaac looks disgusted, but the twins just shrug it off, like it’s not news to them at all. Scott looks horribly hurt. “But Stiles, don’t you want to be in my pack?”

God. Stiles hates to see that expression on Scott’s face. “I love you Scott, you’re my best friend, my brother. You know that. And I love Allison. But as far as your pack? Isaac can hardly stand me and I trust Cora and Derek a hell of a lot more than I trust the evil twins, over there. They tried to _kill_ us, Scott! They held Boyd when Deucalion used Derek’s claws to kill him, remember?”

“You have no idea how powerful Deucalion was, Stiles,” says Scott, seriously. “He brought me to my knees with his voice alone. You can’t judge Aiden and Ethan for what they did when they were in his pack. They had no choice!”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Dude, they just basically advocated for you to either forcefully mate with Cora, or murder Derek, her and Peter!” 

“Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous! They were just sharing what they knew about what happens to a pack‘s territory when the pack has no Alpha. They were not advocating that _we_ do it!”

The twins look at each other guiltily as Allison says, “Uh… Scott? I think they actually were.”

Scott turns to Ethan, outraged. “Seriously? How could you think, for even a second, that I would mate with anyone but Allison?”

“Yeah, Ethan, how could you?” mocks Stiles, his voice dripping sarcasm. “At least Aiden had the decency to suggest murdering all three Hales instead…”

“Stiles! You know I don’t even need to address that. Aiden _has_ to know that’s just… inconceivable! I’d never kill anyone!” Scott looks so horrified that Stiles has to relent.

“I know, Scotty. Of course I know. I’m just saying, your Betas may need a little… socialization. You may have to readjust their moral compass a bit and until you do, I’m not entirely comfortable around them and their violent ways. I’m just a puny human.”

Behind Scott’s back, Aiden gives him the bird. Stiles ignores him and continues, “Also… well, mates have to be in the same pack, so…”

Allison turned to him with a huge grin. “Oh my god, Stiles! Really? That’s so great! I’m so happy for the both of you!” She giggles. “You know what, now that I think about it, I can totally see it?”

Stiles smiles back at her. It’s so nice that she is thrilled for him.

“See what? What are you guys talking about?” asks Scott, totally frustrated.

“I am Derek’s true mate, Scott” says Stiles, and he grins, because he realizes that he sounds just as ridiculously proud about it as Derek does, though of course, _he_ has a good reason to be, because, well, hello… _Derek_.

“You and _Derek_?” asks Isaac, incredulously.

Stiles is not sure if Isaac can’t imagine Derek would want a dork like him, or if he cannot believe anyone could fall for Derek. Either way, he takes offence and answers, “Yeah, Douche-scarf, Derek and I.”

“You’re in the Hale pack? You’re Derek’s mate? Why didn’t you tell me?” asks Scott, sounding hurt and looking betrayed.

Stiles frustration finally boils over. “Oh, my god, Scott! First of all, I only found out I have been in the Hale pack all along _the night before last_ , and that there was still a Hale pack to be in _yesterday_! And I called you, Bro, right away! Asking you to come over, so I could tell you. _You_ blew me off! As for Derek and I, we only bonded _last night_! Believe me, I really wanted to tell you this morning, just like you couldn’t wait to tell me about you and Allison, because I’m so fucking happy, and I love him so much, and I wanted you to be happy with me, but you never even gave me a chance!” 

Stiles is about to lay into him some more, when he catches the worried look on Allison’s face, and the way she’s biting at her lower lip, her eyes overly bright, and it reminds him that things said in anger can never be unsaid, and that he loves Scott. The momentary pleasure he might get from expressing his righteous anger means nothing, nothing compared to the pain it would cause Scott. He shuts up.

Scott opens his mouth to speak three separate times, then he is quiet for a while, frowning. Finally he takes a deep breath and says, “Shit, Stiles, I’m so sorry. I kept interrupting you, didn’t I? I blew you off yesterday, and pretty much blew you off today, too. And then everyone got here and… Oh, god! I never even asked if you were OK with everyone coming to your house. Stiles, man, I don’t know what to say. I’ve been _such_ an ass.”

Sensing the mood, Allison stands up and says, “Hey guys, how about we give Stiles and Scott some time to catch up. We can go to my place, have some lunch, and find out if my Dad has any ideas what happens to a pack without territory?”

“Guys, guys, you don’t need to do that!” Stiles rushes to say, catching her wrist. Allison turns to him, confused, so he clarifies, “I mean, yeah, I think Scott and I should definitely talk, but, uh… The McCall Pack isn’t without territory. Peter carved an enclave in the ancestral Hale land for you guys. You have all of greater Beacon Hills, and that includes a chunk of the preserve. He already had it ratified by the council and everything.”

Allison drops back down on the couch as they all start asking questions at the same time. “Why would he do that?” “There’s an actual council?” “Isn’t that pretty much the Hale territory?”

“Wow, wow! One at a time, OK? Yeah, there’s a council. You need to talk to Deaton, Scott. He knows all that stuff… As for why, there are so many ties between our two packs. You’re my best friend. Lydia is Allison’s best friend, and she’s kind of seeing Aiden, and Peter is the one that bit you, and Derek bit Isaac… Anyway. We’ve been working together from the start. Peter feels you and your pack are… our closest allies, and that whatever comes, we should all face it all together. And the Hale territory is actually huge. Beacon Hills was just part of it, and now it’s yours.”

“You mean Lydia is in the Hale pack too? She chose him over me after what Peter did to her? Is he messing with her head again?” asks Scott, worried.

“No! No. They… They’ve talked about it. She’s remembered some things and… Scott, she said she wanted to talk to you. I’m sure she can explain it to you better than I. But yeah. She’s Hale pack too.”

“So we’re safe? Beacon Hills is ours?” verifies Aiden, who apparently is not surprised about Lydia’s affiliation either, and doesn’t care.

“Yeah,” confirms Stiles.

Ethan and Aiden get up. “We should go, like you said, Ally. Your Dad’s got maps, right? We can figure out exactly what we got, so Isaac can work on a treaty with Derek.” Scott’s pack starts heading out, Isaac looking a bit worried. 

“Meet us at my place when you’re done? Take your time though, no hurry,” Allison tells Scott with a smile.

Scott gets up and they hug tightly for a moment. He kisses her. “Yeah,” he smiles at her. “See you in a while.” It’s nice for Stiles to finally truly understand the connection they have. He gets it now. 

Isaac steps back into the living room and says, “Uh, Scott, I think I should call Dr. Deaton and ask him to come, if he can. What do you think?”

“Good idea. It sounds like we have a lot to learn…” agrees Scott.

Isaac nods. “Yeah, we do.” As he is about to leave, he turns to Stiles. “Hey, Stiles? Thanks for letting us meet at your house, and… congratulations. I mean it. I think you and Derek totally make sense. A yin and yang kind of thing. I think it’s great.” He is out before Stiles has time to even think of an answer, he is so surprised. Perhaps Isaac will be a good second to Scott after all.

In the silence following the closing of the front door, Scott and Stiles look at each other. So many things have happened, there is so much that needs to be said, it’s weighting the atmosphere like the proverbial elephant in the room and they don’t even know where to start. 

But suddenly, Stiles realizes that it’s Scott sitting there, with his hair messed up, and his uneven jaw, and his puppy dog expression, Scott who has been by his side since that first day of kindergarten. Stiles can’t help but smile at him. Scott is his best friend, his brother from another mother, and he loves him.

“Dude, how about you order us some pizza while I set up COD?” Stiles suggests.

Scott looks taken aback for a second, but then grins at him, getting his phone out. “Mario Kart, Dude. You owe me a chance to make up for last time. Meat?”

“Oh, yeah, all the meat! And I’m gonna whoop your ass again, might as well warn you!”

“Dream on. You just got lucky,” says Scott, dialing.

“Lies!” cries Stiles dramatically. “Face the facts, Scottie. Superior skills will tell and I have them.”

“Pff…” comments Scott, rolling his eyes, smiling. “Yeah, hi. I need a large meatlover…”

Stiles feels a weight he had not been aware of carrying leave his shoulders as he sets up the game. He feels good. They are way overdue for some serious bro time. The heavy talk can come later.


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, some rewriting after beta. Why? Why?

Stiles, his arms linked with Cora on one side and Lydia on the other, enters ‘The Pottery Barn for Kids’. They are cracking up at the more and more ridiculous suggestions he is making for the babies’ names. Lydia is eight and a half months along, Cora only seven months, but she’s having twins.

A sales woman in her forties comes over and nicely asks if she can be of any help.

Styles answers in the worst red neck accent, “Me and the wives needs us some baby stuff, seeing as I gone and knock’em both up!”

Cora bursts out laughing, and Lydia hits him playfully on the arm. “Quit it, you idiot. You already got us banned from ‘The Land of Nod’!”

“Their stuff was overpriced anyway!” Stiles replies, in his normal voice. He adds, bowing slightly to the Pottery Barn employee, “I apologize. Sadly neither of these two gorgeous women is married to me. I’m just here to carry the packages.”

She chuckles good-humouredly. “They’re lucky to have you then. Are you looking for something specific or just browsing?”

“We need gliders and apparently you sell the best nursing cushion in the business?” asks Lydia.

“’My Brest Friend’ support pillow,” answers the sales woman. She rolls her eyes. “Could they have come up with the worst name, I ask you? But it is the best. I used it for my two.”

“We need one classic one and one of the twin model,” says Cora.

“Which one of you is having twins?”

“I am.”

“They come with different color covers. Do either of you know the sex of your babies?”

Both girls turn to Stiles. 

“I do!” He says with a goofy grin. “And I’ve told you before! You two are expecting two girls and one boy. But that’s all I’m going to say. Neither Jackson nor Danny want to know, and if you do, you’ll let it slip!”

“Stiles! Come on!” they both complain.

“You both made me promise not to tell, remember? Under pain of death? No matter how much you begged?”

“We changed our minds!” says Lydia.

“Which is why I told you: two girls, one boy.” He turns to the sales woman and says, “We’ll take these in neutral colors, thanks.”

She is cracking up, apparently enjoying the friendly bickering. The girls pick matching gliders and ottomans, as well as a chandelier and a beaded giraffe nightlight for the nursery. As they wait to pay, Stiles offers “Ginger, Nighting and Aquar” as names for the babies, since Danny has already said that of course the babies should have Cora’s last name and Jackson and Lydia changed theirs to Hale when they got married. The girls just roll their eyes and drag him off to Baby Gap.

By the time they get back to the house, the back of Stiles jeep is filled to the max. Though it is still powder blue, it is the newest high end Wrangler unlimited, with a custom paint job. The old one was destroyed by the car bomb that almost cost Stiles his life during a territory dispute with the pack north of theirs. It turned out they had some rather aggressive negotiation techniques. It succeeded in _really_ pissing Stiles off, not to mention getting the whole Hale pack… riled up. So the Hale pack’s land now extends all the way to the Oregon border, and that other pack is no more...

The Great Danes are the first to welcome them. Primo, the huge fawn male is Cora’s.  
  
He is six, which is not young for a Great Dane, but he is the uncontested leader of the dog pack, polite, poised and imposing. She bought him from a reputed breeder a month after they all moved into the Hale house, and Primo is a popular stud. He has a great reputation for fathering strong, healthy pups. 

Angus, the black neutered male Derek got through Great Dane rescue is four. He thinks he is much smaller than he really is, and has a not so secret crush on Lydia.  
  
He, too, is quite regal, well that’s until he gets to ride in the car, and then he puts his head out the window, along with his dignity, and smiles, ears and lips flapping in the wind.  


Atticus is one of Primo’s pups. Instead of payment for Primo’s stud service, two years ago Cora asked for the pick of the litter, and gave the honor to Stiles for his birthday. Atticus and Stiles bonded immediately, and Peter likes to say that Atticus is actually Stiles in dog form…  


Goober, Peter’s three years old neutered black and white male, is also from Dane rescue. His previous owner’s worked long hours, living him alone at home. Bored, he had developed some destructive tendencies. Since joining the pack, he has only destroyed a chair, his first day.  
  
The Hale Alpha has let him know, in no uncertain canine terms that that was not OK, and since then, Goober has been an exemplary dog. 

Cassie and Derek follow the tail wagging dogs to help carry in the many packages from the car. Stiles wishes his hands weren’t full, because Derek was gone four days with Isaac on joint Hale/McCall pack business, and damn, he looks good. He has to satisfy himself with a quick kiss for now.  
Cassie is Peter’s wife of two years.  
  
They met when he was visiting an allied pack in Southern California, getting the necessary signatures to get the new northern border of the Hale territory recognized officially. Cassie was a young widow with a three year old daughter, and Peter had been immediately smitten. Their courtship had been ridiculously short, and she and Lili had joined the Hale pack only three months after they met. Their son Axel was the first baby born to the pack. 

In the kitchen, Peter, the Sheriff and Danny are cooking dinner, talking and laughing. Danny joined the pack when, having turned eighteen, Jackson left his parents in London and returned to Beacon Hills and Lydia. Danny had asked for the bite to join the pack with his best friend. He had taken to being a werewolf like a fish to water, learning to control the shift easily, mastering tracking in no time and embracing pack life as if he’d been born to it. When Cora, who never kept boyfriends very long, had decided she wanted a baby, he had volunteered to be the father. He had always wanted children.

Stiles and Derek leave them to it and go upstairs to their corner bedroom, trying to act casual and failing. They crack up and run the last few steps before racing to their bedroom, ignoring the jeers from downstairs. The rest of the world is shut out as soon as they close the door, Derek pressing Stiles back against it as they really kiss “Hello”.

“Missed you…”

“T’was only four days Stiles…” teases Derek, but it’s pretty clear from the way he is looking at Stiles, eyes hot and loving that he has missed him just as much.

They make their way to the shower, shedding their clothes between kisses as they go. Stiles knows Derek will be much happier once he washes the stink of the mall off and Derek is obviously needed to wash his back, plus Stiles can tell that Derek is hoping to get in a quick fuck before dinner and he really likes that plan, can get behind that plan one hundred percent.

As Stiles turns the water on and waits for it to warm, Derek takes in the view. Stiles’ muscles are toned and well-defined, long and lean. His body carries no fat. Running with wolves and practicing magic burn a lot of calories. The black triskele tattoo above his heart looks beautiful against his luminous skin. The mating bite scar is pale and scarified, and just looking at it makes Derek’s heart beat faster. He hates all the other scars on Stiles skin. Not because they mar his looks: they are a part of his mate, and therefore beautiful to him, but because they represent all the times when Derek was unable to protect Stiles from harm.

Claws, shrapnel and knives have left their marks. Yet Stiles stands in front of him, whole, healthy and powerful. His protective spells have helped keep the pack from harm for years, and his connection to the Hale land is profound. He draws strength from the wilderness of the preserve and the land speaks to him.

They have been together seven years now, through difficult and sometimes terrifying emissary training, attempts by neighboring packs to acquire the Hale territory, and weird supernatural attacks. Stiles has suffered multiple injuries, some worse than others and Derek had a brush with death from which he barely recovered, but from his near death experience he gained the ability to fully shift to a wolf, like many of the Hales before him.

Under the warm water, the lovers meet, and there is soaping, and rimming, and fucking and sucking before they stumble to their bed, to cuddle out the afterglow. 

They always miss each other _dreadfully_ anytime they are apart. Derek wants nothing more than to continue their love making, and from Stiles’ wistful grin, he knows he is not the only one, but they only have about a half an hour more before dinner, and there are guests coming, so it will have to wait. 

“Did you have fun with the girls?” asks Derek, before he kisses the top of Stiles head, which is resting on his shoulder.

The whole front of Stiles body is plastered to Derek’s side, and with his free hand, he is casually caressing the amazing body of the man he loves.

“You know I did. I love all that baby stuff. Plus pregnant women are awesome. They understand sudden craving for curly fries and strawberry shakes. It was our last chance to do this. Lydia’s son is ready to be born. He will be coming on the full moon.”

That’s only two days away, and Lydia is not due for three more weeks, but Derek has no doubt Stiles is right. He knew before Lydia that she was pregnant, and before the pack could even hear the heartbeat, had already told Derek that the boy to be was a werewolf. Stiles is an experienced licenced midwife, specializing in home births. He helped Axel into the world, and will do the same for Lydia’s son. 

Derek takes a deep breath to relax himself from the anxious anticipation born of thinking about babies. He doesn’t want to influence Stiles…

“So, tell me about Greer,” says Stiles, apparently oblivious.

The McCall pack is coming for diner tonight so Derek and Isaac can give their report on the situation in Arizona, but it will be different from talking to Stiles about it alone.

“The Taklishim pack is small. Eight adult members, six of them werewolves, half of them Apaches. Their territory is… beautiful, but harsh. Barren. Wind swept. It smells of sage, and mesquite, and dry sand. They run with real wolves, grey ones, and that’s what Gouyen, their Alpha turns into. A Mexican grey wolf.  
Elan, the man she bit, wanted the bite. He has been in the pack since he was nineteen, ten years now, but there was a ban, from a treaty over a hundred years old with a family of hunters, the Sealgaires out of Gallup, in New Mexico. It was put in place as much from prejudice against the Apaches as against werewolves.  
Gouyen knew about it, but Elan was pack, and the pack has been left alone for over fifty years so she didn’t think anyone would notice or care. She was wrong. The Sealgaires found out, somehow, and are enforcing the treaty, which basically states that the pack must now be eradicated.”

“The entire pack?” 

“Yes. Werewolves and humans, men, women and children. They are hunting them down mercilessly. Luckily, the pack’s territory is huge, and there are plenty of places to hide, but this has been going on two years, and they’ve already lost six members. The last two to get caught were Gouyen’s brother and second, Gopan, and Anpona, his human wife.”

“Why did they contact us? Why not asking for help from the packs in their area?” asked Stiles.

“All the surrounding packs have treaties, just as strict, with the Sealgaires, and the Sealgaires are powerful, unforgiving and blood thirsty. And the Hales/McCall packs have a bit of a reputation… After all, Scott’s Alpha mate is the leader of the Argents, Chris is in his pack and the proud grandpa of two little wolves. They think we tamed our hunters, and they are not wrong. And well… we have you.” Derek is proud that his mate is a powerful emissary, respected and even a little feared by other emissaries. His magical abilities are well known. 

“You think we should help them,” says Stiles.

It’s not a question, but Darek answers anyway. “Both Isaac and I think so, yes. With us on their side, it should be possible to convince the Sealgaires to agree to a new treaty, with little bloodshed.”

“But we may have to fight.”

Again, it’s not a question. “Yes. We might.”

“But their situation sucks, and we don’t have any allied packs in Arizona yet, so it’s worth it.”

“Right. That’s what Isaac and I think too.” Derek is trying to keep calm, but evidently, he is not as successful as he hoped.

Stiles raises himself on his elbow and looks at him, with a little smile. “Your heart is beating awfully fast, there, Sourwolf. What are you not telling me?”

Derek breathes deeply and tries for innocence. “Nothing.”

Stiles smiles harder. Derek rolls his eyes and fesses up.

“Gouyen already has two children. Her parents are older, and the other two couples in the pack also have children of their own. Her brother and his wife had four. The youngest is only three weeks old. Gouyen will be taking them in and raising them, now, which might be a bit… overwhelming. She has a two year-old and a nine month-old herself. In the past, allied packs often fostered each other’s children. Our pack could offer to help, by fostering the baby, to cement our alliance.”

There is no mistaking the excitement on Stiles Face when he asks, “Foster or adopt?”

Derek turns his body so they are now facing each other, their body positions mirroring each other.

“Not sure.”

“You think she would agree?”

“They have been on the run for two years, and are living in an old troglodyte shelter. She’s exhausted, grieving and overwhelmed, and has two young children of her own. Her mother knew mine. Yes. Yes, I think she might be open the idea, if we made arrangement for the child to spend time with the tribe, to know her heritage.”

Somehow, their hands have met, and their fingers are intertwined.

“A baby,” says Stiles.

Derek can’t help but smile, even as he says, “Maybe. If she agrees.”

Stiles whispers, as if not to raise his hopes, as if not to jinx it. “A baby for us, Derek.”

Derek nods, drowning in his mate’s eyes, knowing the hope he sees there is reflected in his.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Maybe,” he says, firmly. “Perhaps, but… probably not, right? A very slim chance, really.”

“Hardly any chance at all,” answers Derek, who knows that the lower their expectations, the better.

“Exactly. Hey, Let’s get dressed. Scott and his gang will be here soon.”

They still hold each other’s hand tightly as they walk down the stairs.

~o~

The decision is made to help the Taklishim pack. Two days after the full moon, Derek, Stiles and his dad from the Hale pack and Allison, Isaac, Rita (an omega who joined the McCall pack two years ago), Ethan and Gunther, his mate, Chris Argent and finally Aiden from the McCall pack head down to Arizona. Chris, John and Aiden are coming by train, because they are bringing the armory, but the rest are flying into Gallup.

Allison goes back to Beacon Hills two days later, disgusted, after her attempt at negotiations with the Silgaires, whom she describes as “the worst kind of hunters”, completely fails.

Two weeks later, after what can kindly be described as some serious hunter ass-whooping, Stiles’ ‘negotiations’ with the same succeed brilliantly. They agree _never_ to cross into Arizona again, and a spell Stiles is quite proud of insures that they will keep their word, which results in offers of alliances from three other very grateful Arizona packs. 

While everyone else goes home, Stiles, Derek and Gouyen stay back to visit all three packs and officially accept the alliances, so they have been gone close to four weeks by the time they get home.

Peter comes to pick them up from the Sacramento airport and when they make it to the Hale house, the entire pack, dogs included, is assembled on the front porch waiting to welcome them home. Everyone is smiling excitedly.

Derek and Stiles grin at each other and Peter chuckles. “I’m the Alpha, and they never make _that_ much of a fuss when I get home,” he grouches, good-naturedly.

Derek gets out from the back seat and passes the bag full of supplies to Stiles before leaning back in and gently extracting their sweet baby from its car seat. Their child is wide-awake, bright eyed and smiling. It is a wonderfully easy baby, only fussing when hungry or in need of a diaper change. Gouyen nursed it while they traveled in Arizona, along with her own baby, and pumped enough milk for them to feed it on the way home until Lydia could take over providing for it along with nursing baby Eric.

They make their way to the house, and it’s obvious everyone is making a huge effort not to rush them and overwhelm the baby. Peter disclosed to them all, once they got home, that Gouyen had agreed to cement the alliance between the Hale and the Taklishim pack by allowing Stiles and Derek to adopt her brother’s youngest orphaned child, as long as Gouyen had visiting rights and as long as the child visited the Taklishim pack every year to learn about her roots. The pack has been waiting impatiently for the three of them to get home. 

The great Danes have less qualms than the humans about staying out of the baby’s face. They each in turn approach Derek and take the baby’s scent. The enormous doggy noses coming in and out of its field of vision do not seem to disturb the infant in the least. 

Finally, John can wait no longer wait. Laughing, he comes forward, makes grabby hands at Derek and says, “OK, Derek, pass my grand-baby over, already!”

Derek chortles and deposits the precious bundle in his arms. 

“Hello there, little one,” John says softly, smiling at the baby. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Stiles puts his arm around his father’s shoulders and gives the baby his finger to grab on to. “Hey, bug-a-boo, this is my dad, your grandpa… and Dad, meet Chumani, your grand-daughter.”

“She’s a gorgeous baby, Stiles.” John stares at her, already falling in love, then quips, “I think she looks just like me.”

Stiles chortles. “Sure, she does,” he agrees.

“Why don’t we take the rest of the introductions into the house,” suggests Jackson, who is coming back from the car carrying Derek and Stiles’ bags, while Danny follows with a fold out crib.

“Oh, excellent idea! Let’s go sit,” says Cora, who looks as big as a house. 

Derek wraps his arm around her shoulders and asks, “You’ve been doing all right?”

She gives him a radiant smile. “Yeah. I feel fabulous, actually.” She looks really beautiful and happy. “I’m glad you guys are home though. I don’t think it will be long, now.”

They all settle in the family room, and Chumani is now in Danny’s arms, trying to grab his nose. 

“Chumani is not an Apache name,” remarks Lydia, who is holding a sleeping baby Eric.

Stiles shakes his head in disbelief. “Come on, Lydia, no way do you speak Apache, do you?”

Lydia gives him a sweet smile. “Of course not… But I _do_ speak Navajo, which is closely related to Apache.”

Stiles rolls his eyes in disgust while Derek chuckles. “You’re right, Lydia. Chumani’s mother was Lakota.”

She leans over, smiling at the baby who has made her way into Jackson’s arms. “She really is gorgeous,” she says. “Does her name mean anything?”

“Dew,” answers Stiles. Derek can tell Stiles is itching to hold his daughter, and he soothingly put his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck. It’s important for Chumani to be held by each member of the pack as soon as possible. 

Cassie has her now, and lifts her up toward the ceiling, making her giggle. “Dew? That’s lovely,” she says. “She feels so light compared to Axel!” she adds, kissing the baby’s soft hair. Axel, Peter and Cassie’s son, is a _very_ sturdy one year old. Curious, he reaches for the new baby from his father’s arms.

“Gentle, Axel, gentle,” instructs Peter, as Axel pets Chumani’s hair with his pudgy hand.

“Doggy!” says Axel, his one and only word. Peter chuckles and Goober wags his tail so it thumps on the rug in front of the fireplace, where all the dogs have settled.

“Chumani means ‘Dew’?” repeats John. He smiles at Stiles and Derek. “Well, that’s just the perfect name, isn’t it?”

Derek has no idea what he means, and Stiles looks just as puzzled so John adds, “Come on, son, I know your Bar Mitzvah preparation classes were a long time ago, but surely you haven’t forgotten all your Hebrew?”

Stiles is still just looking at him blankly, so John shakes his head with a smile and he prods. “Stiles, how do you say ‘Dew’ in Hebrew?” 

Stiles shrugs and thinks about it. “Uh… טל, Tal… “ Then his eyes light up, and he grabs Derek’s arm excitedly. “Oh my god! טליה ! Talia, Derek! Talia means ‘Dew’ in hebrew!” 

He is looking at Derek with the biggest smile, and Derek smiles back. Just as John said, it is perfect, and as if it was always meant to be, as if his mother has given him her blessing from the next world.

Chumani is now in Cora’s arms. “Hello, Chumani, you little miracle.” The very pregnant woman and the infant smile at each other. “How perfect is it that Mom’s first grandchild should be named after her?” Chumani grabs her own foot and tries to bite her toes. Cora laughs. “It’s absolutely perfect! Just like you!”

Lili, Cassie’s daughter, is very happy. “I’m just glad she’s not another boy!” she says, looking at Chumani with a sweet smile. After the birth of Axel and Eric, she has been wondering if she was going to be the _only_ girl in the pack _forever_! Even the dogs are all boys!

Finally, Chumani is back in Stiles’ arms, and Stiles is wrapped in Derek’s and both men sigh happily. It is so good to be home, it feels so right that their daughter now carries the mixed scents of the pack. Stiles touches her lip with his knuckle, and she starts trying to nurse on it.

“Hm,” he says, “someone’s hungry. We still have a bottle from Gouyen, right?” he asks Derek.

“Two more, actually,” confirms Derek.

“How about we show you the nursery, bug-a-boo? We’ll feed you, change you, and you can go to bed? Sounds good?”

Chumani blows a spit bubble, which he interprets as approval. Lydia comes along, wanting to put Eric down and let him finish his nap in his crib.

Stiles grins when he gets to the beautifully decorated nursery, because there are now three sliding nursing chairs instead of two. He turns to Lydia. “You guys are awesome,” he says, passing the baby to Derek so he can take off his flannel shirt and his t-shirt.

She smiles at him, putting her son down in the large circular crib.

“I’ve been pumping every time I nurse Eric. The freezer is full of milk. Cassie has been pumping too.”

“Cassie? I thought Axel was almost weaned!”

“He is. But she’s been pumping twice a day. She wanted to contribute while she still could.”

“Thank you so much, Lydia. We really appreciate it. You know, if it gets to be too much, don’t hesitate to stop. We can always buy the milk from the milk bank.”

Derek takes Chumani’s onesie and her little t-shirt off, changes her diaper as she wiggles happily and gives her back to Stiles, now that he has settled in the nursing chair. Then he hands him a bottle and, leaning against the wall, watches his mate feed their baby, cuddling her skin to skin. Next time will be his turn to do so, to nurture her, snuggle her and breathe in her wonderful baby scent. 

“I think with soon to be _three_ nursing mothers in the house, we should be able to keep you well stocked,” replies Lydia. “I’m so happy for you two. Though her life started with a terrible tragedy, that little one is now one lucky little girl. Well, I’m going to take advantage of Eric’s nap and go take a shower. See you guys at diner.”

The slider rocks perfectly silently, and the only sounds in the room are heartbeats, quiet breaths, and the satisfied suckling noises of their little one. Stiles looks at Derek and, his voice gentle, says, “I never imagined I would ever have all this. A mate, a child, this life we have built for ourselves.”

Derek comes and crouches next to him, his hand looking enormous as it caresses the baby’s dark head. Stiles stops rocking and smiles at him. When Derek touches his cheek, he leans into his touch, then turns his face and kisses his palm. The bottle is empty and Chumani is asleep. Gently, Derek takes her to the changing table where he has already laid out her swaddling blanket. He swaddles her tightly, then carries her to the crib, where he lays her gently next to Eric. After Cora’s twins are born, all four babies will share the big crib, their inner wolves thriving on the closeness of their pack mates, sleeping better and longer for it.

After spending a few minutes looking at the sleeping infants, they leave quietly, the door to the nursery staying open behind them so the werewolves downstairs will hear it if the babies wake up.

“How hungry are you?” asks Derek, smiling.

Stiles looks at him and grins. They have shared accommodations with Gouyen and two babies for twelve days. “Not in the least hungry,” he lies. Food can _definitely_ wait… He adds, loud enough so that the werewolves downstairs will hear them, “Guys, we’re going to take advantage of the fact that Chumani is asleep to have some wild monkey sex. We’ll be skipping diner, too. Only interrupt us if Cora goes into labor. And Cora, don’t you dare! Your babies want to wait for the full moon. Don’t do anything foolish!”

Derek laughs at the teasing complaints that come back, as he and his mate all but run to their room.

The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention that comments are always very welcome, even months and years down the road, and that I am on Tumblr  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ash-bright


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